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. Ta^e 2E 




THE 


WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH 


A TALE 


By J. FENIMORE COOPER 


“ But she is dead to him, to all ; 

Her lute hangs silent on the wall, 
And on the stairs, and at the door. 
Her fairy step is heard no more.” 

Roogrs 


ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY F. 0. C. DARLEY 



NEW YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON 
©amferftiae : a^fbevsiUe IJress. 

1872. 




By T r an f e 

AUG 9 1907 



' cC y 


THE EEV. J. E. 0., 

OP 


****** PENNSYLVANIA. 


The kind and disinterested manner in which you have 
furnished the materials of the following tale, merits a public 
acknowledgment. As your reluctance to appear before the 
world, however, imposes a restraint, you must receive such 
evidence of gratitude as your own prohibition will allow. 

Notwithstanding there are so many striking and deeply 
interesting events in the early history of those from whom you 
derive your being, yet are there hundreds of other families in 
this country, whose traditions, though less accurately and mi- 
nutely preserved than the little narrative you have submitted to 
my inspection, would supply the materials of many moving 
tales. You have every reason to exult in your descent, for, 
surely, if any man may claim to be a citizen and a proprietor 
in the Union, it is one, that, like yourself, can point to a line 
of ancestors, whose origin is lost in the obscurity of time. You 
are truly an American. In your eyes, we of a brief century or 
two must appear as little more than denizens quite recently 
admitted to the privilege of a residence. That you may con- 
tinue to enjoy peace and happiness, in that land where your 
fathers so long flourished, is the sincere wish of your obliged 
friend. 



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i 



PREFACE. 


At this distant period, when Indian traditions are 
listened to with the interest that we lend to the events 
of a dark age, it is not easy to convey a vivid image 
of the dangers and privations that our ancestors en- 
countered, in preparing the land we enjoy for its 
present state of security and abundance. It is the 
humble object of the tale that will be found in the 
succeeding pages, to perpetuate the recollection of 
some of the practices and events peculiar to the early 
days of our history. 

The general character of the warfare pursued by 
the natives is too well known to require any pre- 
liminary observations; but it may be advisable to 
direct the attention of the reader, for a few moments,* 
to those leading circumstances in the history of the 


vi 


PREFACE. 


times, that may have some connection with the prim 
cipal business of the legend. 

Tlie territory which now composes the three states 
of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island, is 
said, by the best-informed of our annalists, to have 
been formerly occupied by four great nations of In- 
dians, who were, as usual, subdivided into numberless 
dependent tribes. Of these people, the Massachusetts 
possessed a large portion of the land which now com- 
poses the state of that name ; the W ampanoags dwelt 
in what was once the Colony of Plymouth, and in 
the northern districts of the Providence Plantations ; 
the Narragansetts held the well known islands of the 
beautiful bay which receives its name from their 
nation, and the more southern counties of the Planta- 
tions ; while the Pequots, or, as it is ordinarily written 
and pronounced, the Pequods, were masters of a 
broad region that lay along the western boundaries 
of the three other districts. 

There is great obscurity thrown around the polity 
of the Indians who usually occupied the country lying 
near the sea. 

The Europeans, accustomed to despotic govern- 
ments, very naturally supposed that the chiefs, found 
in possession of power, were monarchs to whom 
authority had been transmitted in virtue of their 
birthrights. They consequently gave them the name 
of kings. 

How far this opinion of the governments of the 
aborigines was true remains a question, though there 
is certainly reason to think it less erroneous in respect 


PEEFACE. 


vii 


to the tribes of the Atlantic states, than to those whc 
have since been fonnd further west, where it is suffi- 
ciently known that institutions exist which approach 
much nearer to republics than to monarchies. It 
may, however, have readily happened that the son, 
profiting by the advantages of his situation, often 
succeeded to the authority of the father, by the aid 
of influence, when the established regulations of the 
tribe acknowledged no hereditary claim. Let the 
principle of the descent of power be what it would, 
it is certain the experience of our ancestors proves, 
that, in very many instances, the child was seen to 
occupy the station formerly filled by the father ; and 
that in most of those situations of emergency, in 
which a people so violent were often placed, the 
authority he exercised was as summary as it was 
general. The appellation of Uncas came, like those 
of the Caesars and Pharaohs, to be a sort of synonyme 
for chief with the Mohegans, a tribe of the Pequods, 
among whom several warriors of this name were 
known to govern in due succession. The renowned 
Metacom, or, as he is better known to the whites. 
King Philip, was certainly the son of Massasoit, the 
Sachem of the Wampanoags that the emigrants found 
in authority when they landed on the rock of Ply- 
mouth. ]?^iantoniinoh, the daring but hapless rival 
of that Uncas who ruled the whole of the Pequod 
nation, was succeeded in authority among the Karra- 
gansetts, by his not less heroic and enterprising son, 
Conanchet ; and, even at a much later day, we find 
instances of this transmission of power, which furnish 


viii 


PEEFAOE. 


strong reasons for believing that the order of succes- 
sion was in the direct line of blood. 

The early annals of our history are not wanting 
in touching and noble examples of savage heroism. 
Virginia has its legend of the powerful Powhatan 
and his magnanimous daughter, the ill-requited Poca- 
hontas ; and the chronicles of New England are filled 
with the bold designs and daring enterprises of Mian- 
tonimoh, of Metacom, and of Conanchet. All the 
last-named warriors proved themselves worthy of bet- 
ter fates, dying in a cause and in a manner, that, had 
it been their fortune to have lived in a more advanced 
state of society, would have enrplled their names 
among the worthies of the age. 

The first serious war' to which the settlers of New 
England were exposed, was the struggle with the 
Pequods. This people were subdued after a fiei’ce 
confiict ; and from being enemies, all who were not 
either slain or sent into distant slavery, were glad to 
become the auxiliaries of their conquerors. This con- 
test occurred within less than twenty years after the 
Puritans had sought refuge in America. 

There is reason to believe that Metacom foresaw 
the fate of his own people, in the humbled fortunes 
of the Pequods. Though his father had been the 
earliest and constant friend of the whites, it is prob- 
able that the Puritans owed some portion of this 
amity to a dire necessity. We are told that a terrible 
malady had raged among the Wampanoags but a 
short time before the arrival of the emigrants, and 
that their numbers had been fearfully reduced by its 


PEEFAOE. 


IX 


ravages. Some authors have hinted at the proba- 
bility of this disease having been the yellow fever, 
whose visitations are known to be at uncertain, and, 
apparently, at very distant intervals. Whatever 
might have been the cause of this destruction of his 
people, Massasoit is believed to have been induced, 
by the consequences, to cultivate the alliance of a 
nation who could protect him against the attacks of 
his ancient and less afflicted foes. But the son appears 
to have viewed the increasing influence of the whites 
with eyes more jealous than those of the father. He 
passed the morning of his life in maturing his great 
plan for the destruction of the strange race, and his 
later years were spent in abortive attempts to put 
this bold design in execution. His restless activity 
in plotting the confederation against the English, his 
fierce and ruthless manner of waging the war, his 
defeat, and his death, are too well known to require 
repetition. 

There, is also a wild and romantic interest thrown 
about the obscure history of a Frenchman of that 
period. This man is said to have been an offlcer of 
rank in the service of his king, and to have belonged 
to the privileged class which then monopolized all 
the dignities and emoluments of the kingdom of 
France. The traditions, and even the written annals 
of the first century of our possession of America, 
connect the Baron.de la Castine with the Jesuits, who 
were thought to entertain views of converting the 
savages to Christianity, not unmingled with the desire 
of establishing a more temporal dominion over their 


PREFACE. 


minds. It is, however, difficult to saj whether taste, 
or religion, or policy, or necessity, induced this noble- 
man to quit the saloons of aris for the wilds of the 
Penobscot. It is merely known that he passed the 
greater part of his life on that river, in a rude for- 
tress tliat was then called a palace ; that he had many 
wives, a numerous progeny, and that he possessed a 
great influence over most of the tribes that dwelt 
in his vicinity. He is also believed to have been the 
instrument of furnishing thp savages who were hostile 
to the English, with ammunition, and with weapons 
of a more deadly character than those used in their 
earlier wars. In whatever degree he may have par- 
ticipated in the plan to exterminate the Puritans, 
death prevented him from assisting in the final effort 
of Metacom. 

The Harragansetts are often mentioned in these 
pages. A few years before the period at which the 
tale commences, Miantonimoh had waged a ruthless 
war against Hncas, the Pequod or Mohegan chief. 
Fortune favored the latter, who, probably assisted by 
his civilized allies, not only overthrew the bands of 
the other, but succeeded in capturing the person of 
his enemy. The chief of the Harragan setts lost his 
life, through the agency of the whites, on the place that 
is now known by the appellation of “ the Sachem’s 
plain.” 

It remains only to throw a little .light on the lead 
mg incidents of the war of IHng Philip. The first 
blow was struck in June, 1675, rather more than half 
a century after the English first landed in Hew 


PREFACE. 


XI 


England, and jnst a century before blood was drawn 
in the contest which separated the colonies from the 
mother country. The scene was a settlement near the 
celebrated Mount Hope, in Ehode Island, where 
Metacom and his father had both long held their 
councils. From this point, bloodshed and massacre 
extended along the whole frontier of Hew England. 
Bodies of horse and foot were enrolled to meet the 
foe, and towns were burnt, and lives were taken by 
both parties, with little, and often with no respect for 
age, condition or sex. 

In no struggle with the native owners of the soil 
was the growing power of the whites placed in so 
great jeopardy, as in this celebrated contest with 
EIng Philip. The venerable historian of Connecticut 
estimates the loss of lives at nearly one-tenth of the 
whole number of the fighting men, and the destruc- 
tion of houses and other edifices to have been in an 
equal proportion. One family in every eleven, 
throughout all Hew England, was burnt out. As 
the colonists nearest the sea were exempt from the 
danger, an idea may be formed, from this calcula- 
tion, of the risk and sufferings of those who dwelt in 
more exposed situations. The Indians did not escape 
without retaliation. The principal nations, already 
mentioned, were so much reduced as never afterwards 
to offer any serious resistance to the whites, who have 
since converted the whole of their ancient hunting- 
grounds into the abodes of civilized man. Metacom, 
Miantonimoh, and Conanchet, with their warriors, 
have become the heroes of song and legend, while 


xii 


PREFACE. 


the descendants of those who laid waste their domin- 
ions, and destroyed their race, are yielding a tardy 
tribute to the high daring and savage grandeur of 
their characters. 



THE 



WEPT OE WISH-TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.” 

Shakspeark. 

The incidents of this tale must be sought in a remote 
period of the annals of America. A colony of self-devoted 
and pious refugees from religious persecution had landed on 
the rock of Plymouth, less than half a century before the 
time at which the narrative commences ; and they, and their 
descendants, had already transformed many a broad waste 
of wilderness into smiling fields and cheerful villages. The 
labors of the emigrants had been chiefly limited to the coun- 
try on the coast, which, by its proximity to the waters that 
rolled between them and Europe, afibrded the semblance of 
a connexion with the land of their forefathers and the distant 
abodes of civilization. But enterprise, and a desire to search 
for still more fertile domains, together with the temptation 
offered by the vast and unknown regions that lay along their 
western and northern borders, had induced many bold 
adventurers to penetrate more deeply into the forests. The 
precise spot to which we desire to transport the imagination 
of the reader, was one of these establishments of what may, 
not inaptly, be called the forlorn-hope in the march of civili- 
zation through the country. 


14 THE WEPT OF AV IS H - TON - WISH. 

So little was tlien known of the great outlines of the 
American continent, that, when the Lords Say and Seal, and 
Brooke, connected with a few associates, obtained a grant 
of the territory which now composes the state of Connecticut, 
the King of England affixed his name to a patent Avhich 
constituted them proprietors of a country that should extend 
from the shores of the Atlantic to those of the South Sea. 
Notwithstanding the apparent hopelessness of ever subduing, 
or of even occupying a territory like this, emigrants from 
the mother colony of Massachusetts were found ready to 
commence the Herculean labor within fifteen years Irom the 
day when they had first put foot upon the well-known rock 
itself. The fort of Say-Brooke, the towns of Windsor, Hart- 
ford, and New Haven, soon sprang into existence, and from 
that period to this, the little community which then had 
birth has been steadily, calmly, and prosperously advancing 
in its career, a model of order and reason, and the hive from 
which swarms of industrious, hardy, and enlightened yeomen 
have since spread themselves over a surface so vast as to 
create an impression that they still aspire to the possession 
of the immense regions included in their original ^ant. 

Among the religionists whom disgust of persecution had 
early driven into the voluntary exile of the colonies, was 
more than an usual proportion of men of character and 
education. The reckless and the gay, younger sons, soldiers 
unemployed, and students from the Inns of Court, early 
sought advancement and adventure in the more southern 
provinces, where slaves offered immunity from labor, and 
where war, with a bolder and more stirring policy, oftener 
gave rise to scenes of excitement, and, of course, to the 
exercise of the faculties best suited to their habits and dispo- 
sitions. The more grave, and the religiously-disposed, found 
refuge in the colonies of New-England. Thither a multitude 
of private gentlemen transferred their fortunes and their 
families, imparting a character of intelligence and a moral 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 15 

elevation to the country, which it has nobly sustained to the 
present hour. 

The nature of the civil wars in England had enlisted 
many men of deep and sincere piety into the profession of 
arms. Some of them had retired to the colonies before the 
troubles of the mother country reached their crisis, and 
others continued to arrive, throughout the whole period of 
their existence, until the Restoration ; when crowds of 
those who had been disaffected to the house of Stuart 
sought the security of these distant possessions. 

A stern, fanatical soldier, of the name of Heathcote, had 
been among the first of his class to throw aside the sword 
for the implements of industry peculiar to the advancement 
of a newly-established country. How far the influence of a 
young wife may have affected his decision, it is not germane 
to our present object to consider ; though the records, from 
which the matter we are about to relate is gleaned, give 
reason to suspect that he thought his domestic harmony 
would not be less secure in the wilds of the new world, than 
among the companions with whom his earlier associations 
wonld naturally have brought him in communion. 

Like himself, his consort was born of one of those fami- 
lies, which, taking their rise in the franklins of the times of 
the Edwards and the Henries, had become possessors of 
hereditary landed estates, that, by their gradually-increasing 
value, had elevated them to the station of small country 
gentlemen. In most other nations of Europe, they would 
have been rated in the class of the petite noblesse. But the 
domestic happiness of Capt. Heathcote was doomed to 
receive a fatal blow from a quarter where circumstances had 
given him but little reason to apprehend danger. The 
very day he landed in the long wished for asylum, his wife 
made him the father of a noble boy, a gift that she bestowed 
at the melancholy price of her own existence. Twenty 
years the senior of -the woman who had followed his for- 


16 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 

tunes to these distant regions, the retired warrior had 
always considered it to he perfectly and absolutely within 
the order of things, that he himself was to be the first to 
pay the debt of nature. While the visions which Captain 
Heathcote entertained of a future world were sufficiently 
vivid and distinct, there is reason to think they were seen 
through a tolerable long vista of quiet and comfortable 
enjoyment in this. Though the calamity cast an additional 
aspect of seriousness over a character that was already 
more than chastened by the subtleties of sectarian doctrines, 
he was not of a nature to be unmanned by any vicissitude 
of human fortune. He lived on, useful and unbending in 
his habits, a pillar of strength in the way of wisdom and 
courage to the immediate neighborhood among whom he 
resided, but reluctant from temper, and from a disposition 
which had been shadowed by withered happiness, to enact 
that part in the public affairs of the little state, to which 
his comparative wealth and previous habits might well have 
entitled him to aspire. He gave his son such an education 
as his own resources and those of the infant colony of Mas- 
sachusetts afforded, and, by a sort of delusive piety, into 
whose merits we have no desire to look, he thought he had 
also furnished a commendable evidence of his own desperate 
resignation to the will of Providence, in causing him to be 
publicly christened by the name of Content. His own 
baptismal appellation was Mark ; as indeed had been that 
of most of his ancestors, for two or three centuries. Wlien 
the world was a little uppermost in his thoughts, as some- 
time happens with the most humbled spirits, he had even 
been heard to speak of a Sir Mark of his family, who had 
ridden a knight in the train of one of the more warlike 
kings of his native land. 

There is some ground for believing, that the great parent 
of evil early looked with a malignant eye on the example 
of peacefulness, and of unbending morality, that the colonists 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


17 


of New-England were setting to tlie rest of Christendom. 
At any rate, come from what quarter they might, schisms 
and doctrinal contentions arose among the emigrants them- 
selves ; and men, who together had deserted the firesides 
of their forefathers in quest of religious peace, were ere 
long seen separating their fortunes, in order that each might 
enjoy, unmolested, those peculiar shades of faith, which all 
had the presumption, no less than the folly, to believe were 
necessary to propitiate the omnipotent and merciful father 
of the universe. If our task were one of theology, a whole- 
some moral on the vanity, no less than on the absurdity of 
the race, might be here introduced to some advantage. 

When Mark Heathcote announced to the community, in 
which he had now sojourned more than twenty years, that 
he intended for a second time to establish his altars in the 
wilderness, in the hope that he and his household might 
worship God as to them seemed most right, the intelligence 
was received with a feeling allied to awe. Doctrine and 
zeal were momentarily forgotten, in the respect and attach- 
ment which had been unconsciously created by the united 
infiuence of the stern severity of his air, and of the undeni- 
able virtues of his practice. The elders of the settlement 
communed with him freely and in charity ; but the voice of 
conciliation and alliance came too late. He listened to the 
reasonings of the ministers, who were assembled from all 
the adjoining parishes, in sullen respect : and he joined in 
the petitions for light and instruction that were offered up 
on the occasion, with the deep reverence with which he ever 
drew near to the footstool of the Almighty; but he did 
both in a temper, into which too much positiveness of spirit- 
ual pride had entered, to open his heart to that sympathy 
and charity, which, as they are the characteristics of our 
mild and forbearing doctrines, should, be the study of those 
who profess to follow their precepts. All that was seemly, 
and all that was usual, were done ; but the purpose of the 


18 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

stubborn sectarian remained unchanged. His final decision 
is worthy of being recorded. 

“ My youth was wasted in ungodliness and ignorance,” 
he said, “but in my manhood have I known the Lord. 
Near two-score years have I toiled for the truth, and all that 
weary time have I passed in trimming my lamps, lest, like the 
foolish virgins, I should be caught unprepared ; and now, 
when my loins are girded and my race is nearly run, shall I 
become a backslider and falsifier of the word ? Much have 
I endured, as you know, in quitting the earthly mansion of 
my fathers, and in encountering the dangers of sea and land 
for the faith ; and, rather than let go its hold, will I once 
more cheerfully devote to the howling wilderness, ease, off- 
spring, and, should it be the will of Providence, life itself!” 

The day of parting was one of unfeigned and general 
sorrow. Notwithstanding the austerity of the old man’s 
character, and the nearly unbending severity of his brow, 
the milk of human kindness had often been seen distilling 
from his stern nature in acts that did not admit of misinter- 
pretation. There was scarcely a young beginner in the 
laborious and ill-requited husbandry of the township he 
inhabited, a district at no time considered either profitable 
or fertile, who could not recall some secret and kind aid 
which had flowed from a hand that, to the world, seemed 
clenched in cautious and reserved frugality ; nor did any of 
the faithful of his vicinity cast their fortunes together in 
wedlock, without receiving from him evidence of an interest 
in their worldly happiness, that was far more substantial 
than words. 

On the morning when the vehicles, groaning with the 
household goods of Mark Heathcote, were seen quitting his 
door, and taking the road which led to the sea-side, not a 
human being of sufficient age, within many miles of his resi- 
dence, was absent fi’om the interesting spectacle. The 
leave-taking, as usual on all serious occasions, was preceded 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


19 


by a hymn and prayer, and then the sternly-minded adven- 
turer embraced his neighbors, with a mien, in which a sub- 
dued exterior struggled fearfully and strangely with emotions 
that more than once threatened to break through even the 
formidable barriers of his acquired manner. The inhabit- 
ants of every building on the road were in the open air, to 
receive and to return the parting benediction. More than 
once, they who guided his teams were commanded to halt, 
and all near, possessing human aspirations and human res- 
ponsibility, were collected to offer petitions in favor of him 
who departed and of those who remained. The requests 
for mortal privileges were somewhat light and hasty, but the 
askings in behalf of intellectual and spiritual light were long, 
fervent, and oft-repeated. In this characteristic manner did 
one of the first of the emigrants to the new world make his 
second removal into scenes of renewed bodily suflfering, pri- 
vation, and danger. 

Neither person nor property was transferred from place 
to place, in this country, at the middle of the seventeenth 
century, with the despatch and with the facilities of the pre- 
sent time. The roads were necessarily few and short, and 
communication by water was irregular, tardy, and far from 
commodious. A wide barrier of forest lying between that 
portion of Massachusetts bay from which Mark Heathcote 
emigrated, and the spot, near the Connecticut river, to which 
it was his intention to proceed, he was induced to adopt the 
latter mode of conveyance. But a long delay intervened 
between the time when he commenced his short journey to 
the coast, and the hour when he was finally enabled to 
embark. During this detention he and his household 
sojourned among the godly-minded of the narrow peninsula, 
where there already existed the germ of a flourishing town, 
and where the spires of a noble and picturesque city now 
elevate themselves above so many thousand roofs. 

The son did not leave the colony of his birth and the 


20 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

haunts of his youth, with the same unwavering obedience 
to the call of duty as the father. Tliere was a fair, a youth- 
ful, and a gentle being in the recently-established town of 
Boston, of an age, station, opinions, fortunes, and, what was 
of still greater importance, of sympathies suited to his own. 
Her form had long mingled with those holy images, which 
his stern instruction taught him to keep most familiarly 
before the mirror of his thoughts. It is not surprising, 
then, that the youth hailed the delay as propitious to his 
wishes, or that he turned it to the account which the prompt- 
ings of a pure affection so naturally suggested. He was 
united to the gentle Ruth Harding only the week before the 
father sailed on his second pilgrimage. 

It is not our intention to dwell on the incidents of the 
voyage. Though the genius of an extraordinary man had 
discovered the world which was now beginning to fill with 
civilized men, navigation at that day was not brilliant in 
accomplishments. A passage among the shoals of Nan- 
tucket must have been one of actual danger, no less than 
of terror ; and the ascent of the Connecticut itself was an 
exploit worthy of being mentioned. In due time the adven- 
turers landed at the English fort of Hartford, where they 
tarried for the season, in order to obtain rest and spiritual 
comfort. But the peculiarity of doctrine, on which Mark 
Heathcote laid so much stress, was one that rendered it 
advisable for him to retire still further from the haunts of 
men. Accompanied by a few followers, he proceeded on an 
exploring expedition, and the end of the summer found him 
once more established on an estate that he had acquired by 
the usual simple forms practised in the colonies, and at the 
trifling cost for which extensive districts were then set apart 
as the property of individuals. 

The love of the things of this life, while it certainly exist- 
ed, was far from being predominant in the afifections of the 
Puritan. He was frugal from habit and principle, more 


THE WEPT OP W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 21 

than from an undue longing after worldly wealth. He con- 
tented himself, therefore, with acquiring .an estate that 
should be valuable, rather from its quality and beauty, than 
from its extent. Many such places offered themselves, 
between the settlements of Weathersfield and Hartford, 
and that imaginary line which separated the possessions of 
the colony he had quitted, from those of the one he joined. 
He made his location, as it is termed in the language of the 
country, near the northern boundary of the latter. This 
spot, by the aid of an expenditure that might have been 
considered lavish for the country and the age ; of some lin- 
gering of taste, which even the self-denying and subdued 
habits of his later life had not entirely extinguished ; and of 
great natural beauty in the distribution of land, water, and 
wood, the emigrant contrived to convert into an abode tha^ 
was not more desirable for its retirement from the tempta- 
tions of the world, than for its rural loveliness. 

After this memorable act of conscientious self-devotioi^ 
years passed away in quiet, amid a species of negative 
prosperity. Rumors from the old world reached the ears 
of the tenants of this secluded settlement, months after the 
events to which they referred were elsewhere forgotten, and 
tumults and wars in the sister colonies came to their know- 
ledge only at distant and tardy intervals. In the mean- 
time, the limits of the colonial establishments were gradu- 
ally extending themselves, and valleys were beginning to be 
cleared nearer and nearer to their own. Old age had now 
begun to make some visible impression on the iron frame of 
the Captain ; and the fresh color of youth and health, with 
which his son had entered the forest, was giving way to the 
brown covering produced by exposure and toil. AVe say 
of toil, for, independently of the habits and opinions of the 
country, which strongly reprobated idleness, even in those 
most gifted by fortune, the daily difficulties of their situation, 
the chase, and the long and intricate passages that the vete- 


22 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


ran himself was compelled to adventure in the surrounding 
forest, partook largely of the nature of the term we have 
used. Ruth continued blooming and youthful, though 
maternal anxiety was soon added to her other causes of 
care. Still, for a long season, naught occurred to excite 
extraordinary regrets for the step they had taken, or to 
create particular uneasiness in behalf of the future. The 
borderers, for such by their frontier position they had in 
truth become, heard the strange and awful tidings of the 
dethronement of one king, of the interregnum, as a reign 
of more than usual vigor aiid prosperity is called, and of 
the restoration of the son of him who is strangely enough 
termed a martyr. To all these eventful and unwonted 
chances in the fortunes of kings, Mark Heathcote listened 
with deep and reverential submission to the will of Him, in 
whose eyes crowns and sceptres are merely the more costly 
baubles of the world. Like most of his contemporaries, who 
had sought shelter in the western continent, his political 
opinions, if not absolutely republican, had a leaning to 
liberty that was strongly in opposition to the doctrine of the 
divine rights of the monarch, while he had been too far 
'removed from the stirring passions which, had gradually 
excited those nearer to the throne, to lose their respect for 
its sanctity, and to sully its brightness with blood. When 
the transient and straggling visitors that, at long intervals, 
visited his settlement, spoke of the Protector, who for so 
many years ruled England with an iron hand, the eyes of 
the old man would gleam with sudden and singular interest ; 
and once when commenting after evening prayer on the 
vanity and the vicissitudes of this life, he acknowledged that 
the extraordinary individual, who was, in substance if not 
in name, seated on the throne of the Plantagenets, had been 
the boon companion and ungodly associate of many of his 
youthful hours. Then would follow a long, wholesome, 
extemporaneous homily on the idleness of setting the alfec- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


23 


tions on the things of life, and a half-suppressed, hut still 
intelligible commendation of the wiser course which had 
led him to raise his own tabernacle in the wilderness, 
instead of weakening the chances of eternal glory by striv- 
ing too much for the possession of the treacherous vanities 
of the world. 

But even the gentle and ordinarily little observant Ruth 
might trace the kindling of the eye, the knitting of the 
brow, and the flushings of his pale and furrowed cheek, as 
the murderous conflicts of the civil wars became the themes 
of the ancient soldier’s discourse. There were moments 
when religious submissiop, and we had almost said religious 
precepts, were partially forgotten, as he explained to his 
attentive son and listening grandchild, the nature of the 
onset, or the quality and dignity of the retreat. At such 
times, his still nervous hand would even v/ield the blade, in 
order to instruct the latter in its uses, and many a long 
winter evening was passed in thus indirectly teaching an 
art, that was so much at variance with the mandates of his 
divine master. The chastened soldier, however, never for- 
got to close his instruction with a petition extraordinary, in 
the customary prayer, that no descendant of his should ever 
take life from a being unprepared to die, except in justifiable 
defence of his faith, his person, or his lawful rights. It 
must he admitted, that a liberal construction of the reserved 
privileges would leave sufficient matter to exercise the 
subtlety of one subject to any extraordinary propensity to 
arms. 

Few opportunities were, however, offered, in their re- 
mote situation and with their peaceful habits, for the 
practice of a theory that had been taught in so many les- 
sons. Indian alarms, as they were termed, were not unfre- 
quent, hut, as yet, they had never produced more than 
terror in the bosoms of the gentle Ruth and her young 
offspring. It is true, they had heard of travellers massacred. 


24 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

and of families separated by captivity, but, either by a 
happy fortune, or by more than ordinary prudence in the 
settlers who were established along that immediate frontier, 
the knife and the tomahawk had as yet been sparingly used 
in the colony of Connecticut. A threatening and dangerous 
struggle with the Dutch, in the adjoining province of New- 
Netherlands, had been averted by the foresight and modera- 
tion of the rulers of the new plantations ; and though a 
warlike and powerful native chief kept the neighboring 
colonies of Massachusetts and Rhode-Island in a state of 
constant watchfulness, from the cause just mentioned the 
apprehension of danger was greatly weakened in the breasts 
of those so remote as the individuals who composed the 
family of our emigrant. 

In this quiet manner did years glide by, the surrounding 
wilderness slowly retreating from the habitations of the 
Heathcotes, until they found themselves in possession of as 
many of the comforts of life as their utter seclusion from 
the rest of the world could give them reason to expect. 

With this preliminary explanation we shall refer the 
reader to the succeeding narrative for a more minute, and 
we hope for a more interesting account of the incidents of 
a legend that may prove too homely for the tastes of those 
whose imaginations seek the excitement of scenes more 
stirring, or of a condition of life less natural. 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 


25 


CHAPTER II. 

“ Sir, I do know you; 

And dare, upon the warrant of my art, 

Commend a dear thing to you.” 

King Leab. 

At the precise time tvhen the action of our piece com- 
mences, a fine and fruitful season was drawing to a close. 
The harvests of hay and of the smaller corns had long 
been over, and the younger Heathcote, with his laborers, 
had passed a day in depriving the luxuriant maize of its 
tops, in order to secure the nutritious blades for fodder, and 
to admit the sun and air to harden a grain, that is almost 
considered the staple production of the region he inhabited. 
Tlie veteran Mark had ridden among the workmen during 
their light toil, as well to enjoy a sight which promised 
abundance to his flocks and herds, as to throw in, on occa- 
sion, some wholesome spiritual precept, in which doctrinal 
subtlety was far more prominent than the rules of practice. 
The hirelings of his son, for he had long since yielded the 
management of the estate to Content, were, without an ex- 
ception, young men born in the country, and long use and 
much training had accustomed them to a blending of reli- 
gious exercises with most of the employments of life. They 
listened, therefore, with respect, nor did an impious smile or 
an impatient glance escape the lightest-minded of their 
number during his exhortations, though the homilies of the 
old man were neither very brief nor particularly original. 
But devotion to the one great cause of their existence, aus- 
tere habits, and unrelaxed industry in keeping alive a flame 

2 


26 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

of zeal that had been kindled in the other hemisphere, to 
burn longest and brightest in this, had interwoven the prac- 
tice mentioned with most of the opinions and pleasures of 
these metaphysical, though simple-minded people. The toil 
went on none the less cheerily for the extraordinary acconv 
paniment, and Content himself, by a certain glimmering of 
superstition, which appears to be thg concomitant of exces- 
sive religious zeal, was fain to think that the sun shone more 
brightly on their labors, and that the earth gave forth more 
of its fruits while these holy sentiments were flowing from 
the lips of a father whom he piously loved and deeply reve- 
renced. 

But^when the sun, usually at that season, in the climate 
of Connecticut, a bright unshrouded orb, fell towards the 
tree-tops which bounded the western horizon, the old man 
began to grow weary with his own well-doing. He there- 
fore finished his discourse with a wholesome admonition to 
the youths to complete their tasks before they quitted the 
field ; and, turning the head of his horse, he rode slowly, 
and with a musing air, towards the dwellings. It is proba- 
ble that for some time the thoughts of Mark were occupied 
with the intellectual matter he had just been handling with 
so much power ; but when his little nag stopped of itself on 
a small eminence, which the crooked cow -path he was fol- 
lowing crossed, his mind yielded to the impression of more 
worldly and more sensible objects. As the scene that drew 
his contemplations from so many abstract theories to the 
realities of life was peculiar to the country, and is more or 
less connected with the subject of our tale, we shall 
endeavor briefly to describe it. 

A small tributary of the Connecticut divided the view 
into two nearly <3qual parts. The fertile flats that extended 
on each of its banks for more than a mile, had been early 
stripped of their burden of forest, and they now lay in placid 
meadows, or in fields from which the grain of the season had 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O X - W I S H . 


21 


lately disappeared, and over which the plough had already 
left the marks of recent tillage. The whole of the plain, 
which ascended gently from the rivulet towards the forest, 
was subdivided into inclosures by numberless fences, con- 
structed in the rude but substantial manner of the country. 
Rails, in which lightness and economy of wood had been 
but little consulted, lying in zigzag lines, like the approaches 
which the besieger makes in his cautious advance to the 
hostile fortress, were piled on each other, until barriers 
seven or eight feet in height were interposed to the inroads 
of vicious cattle. In one spot, a large square vacancy had 
been cut into the forest, and though numberless stumps of 
trees darkened its surface, as indeed they did many of the 
fields on the flats themselves, bright, green grain was 
sprouting forth luxuriantly from the rich and virgin soil. 
High against the side of an adjacent hill, that might aspire 
to be called a low rocky mountain, a similar invasion had 
been made on the domain of the trees ; but caprice or con- 
venience had induced an abandonment of the clearing, after 
it had ill requited the toil of felling the timber by a single 
crop. In this spot, -straggling, girdled, and consequently 
dead trees, piles of logs, and black and charred stumps were 
seen, deforming the beauty of a field, that would otherwise 
have been striking from its deep setting in th(^ woods. 
Much of the surface of this opening, too, was now concealed 
by bushes, of what is termed the second growth, though 
here and there places appeared, in which the luxuriant 
white clover, natural to the country, had followed the close 
grazing of the flocks. The eyes of Mark were bent inquir- 
ingly on this clearing, which by an air line might have 
been half a mile from the place where his horse had 
stopped, for the sounds of a dozen differently toned cow- 
bells were brought on the still air of the evening to his ears, 
from among its bushes. 

The evidences of civilization wei’c the least equivocal, 


28 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

however, on and around a natural elevation in the land, 
which arose so suddenly on the very hank of the stream as 
to give to it the appearance of a work of art. Whether 
these mounds once existed everywhere on the face of the 
earth, and have disappeared before long tillage and? labor, 
we shall not presume to conjecture ; but we have reason to 
think that they occur much more fi’equently in certain parts 
of our own country than in any other familiarly known to 
ordinary travellers, unless, perhaps, it may be in some of the 
valleys of Switzerland. The practised veteran had chosen 
the summit of this flattened cone for the establishment of 
that species of military defence, which the situation of the 
country and the character of the enemy he had to guard 
against, rendered advisable, as well as customary. 

The dwelling was of wood, and constructed of the ordi- 
nary frame-work, with its thin covering of boards. It was 
long, low, and irregular, bearing marks of having been 
reared at different periods, as the wants of an increasing 
family had required additional accommodation. It stood 
near the verge of the natural declivity, and on that side of 
the hill where its base was washed by the rivulet, a rude 
piazza stretching along the whole of its front, and over- 
hanging the stream. Several large, irregular, and clumsy 
chimneys rose out of different parts of the roofs, another 
proof that comfort rather than taste had been consulted in 
the disposition of the buildings. There were also two or 
three detached offices on the summit of the hill, placed near 
the dwellings, and at points most convenient for their seve- 
ral uses. A stranger might have remarked that they were 
so disposed as to form, as far as they went, the different sides 
of a hollow square. Notwithstanding the great length of 
the principal building, and the disposition of the more 
minute and detached parts, this desirable formation would 
not, however, have been obtained, if it were not that two 
rows of rude constructions in logs, from which the bark had 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON- WISH. 


29 


not even been stripped, served to eke out the parts that 
had been deficient. These primeval edifices were used to 
contain various domestic articles, no less than provisions ; 
and they also furnished numerous lodging-rooms for the 
laborers and the inferior dependants of the farm. By the 
aid of a few strong and high gates of hewn timber, those 
parts of the building which had not been made to unite in 
the original construction, were sufficiently connected to 
oppose so many barriers against admission into the inner 
court. 

But the building which was most conspicuous by its 
position, no less than by the singularity of its construction, 
stood on a low, artificial mound, in the centre of the qua- 
drangle. It was high, hexagonal in shape, and crowned with 
a roof that came to a point, and from whose peak rose a 
towering flagstaff. The foundation was of stone ; but, at 
the height of a man above the earth, the sides were made 
of massive, squared logs, firmly united by an ingenious com- 
bination of their ends, as well as by perpendicular supporters 
pinned closely into their sides. In this citadel, or block- 
house, as from its materials it Avas technically called, there 
were tAvo different tiers of long, narrow loopholes, but no 
regular Avindows. The rays of the setting sun, hoAvever, 
glittering on one or two small openings in the roof, in which 
glass had been set, furnished evidence that the summit of 
the building was sometimes used for other purposes than 
those of defence. 

About half-way up the sides of the eminence on which 
the building stood, Avas an unbroken line of high palisadoes, 
made of the bodies of young trees, firmly knitted together 
by braces and horizontal pieces of timber, and evidently 
kept in a state of jealous and complete repair. The air of 
the whole of this frontier fortress was neat and comfortable, 
and, considering that the use of artillery was unknoAvn to 
those forests, not unmilitary. 


30 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

At no great distance from the base of the hill, stood the 
barns and the stables. They Were surrounded by a vast 
range of rude but warm sheds, beneath which sheep and 
horned cattle were usually sheltered from the storms of the 
rigorous winters of the climate. The surfaces of the mea- 
dows immediately around the out-buildings, were of a 
smoother and richer sward than those in the distance, and 
the fences were on a far more artificial, and perhaps durable, 
though scarcely on a more serviceable plan. A large 
orchard of some ten or fifteen years’ growth, too, added 
greatly to the air of improvement, which put this smiling 
valley in such strong and pleasing contrast to the endless 
and nearly untenanted woods by which it was environed. 

Of the interminable forest, it is not necessary to speak. 
With the solitary exception on the mountain-side, and of 
here and there a wind-row, along which the trees had been 
uprooted by the furious blasts which sometimes sweep off 
acres of our trees in a minute, the eye could find no other 
object to study in the vast setting of this quiet rural picture, 
but the seemingly endless maze of wilderness. The broken 
surface of the land, however, limited the view to an horizon 
of no great extent, though the art of man could scarcely 
devise colors so vivid or so gay, as those which were afforded 
by the brilliant hues of the foliage. The keen, biting frosts, 
known at the close of a New England autumn, had already 
touched the broad and fringed leaves of the maples, and 
the sudden and secret process had been wrought upon all 
the other varieties of the forest, producing that magical 
effect which can be nowhere seen except in regions in which 
nature is so bountiful and luxuriant in summer, and so 
sudden and so stern in the change of the seasons. 

Over this picture of prosperity and peace, the eye 
of old Mark Heathcote wandered with a keen degree of 
worldly prudence. The melancholy sounds of the various 
toned bells, ringing hollow and plaintively among the' arches 


31 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

of the woods, gave him reason to believe that the herds of 
the family were returning voluntarily from their unlimited 
forest pasturage. His grandson, a fine, spirited boy of some 
fourteen years, was approaching through the fields. The 
youngster drove before him a small flock, which domestic 
necessity compelled the family to keep at great occasional 
loss, and a heavy expense of time and trouble ; both of 
which could alone protect them from the ravages of the 
beasts of prey. A species of half-witted serving-lad, whom 
charity had induced the old man to harbor among his 
dependants, was seen issuing from the woods, nearly in a 
line with the neglected clearing on the mountain-side. The 
latter advanced, shouting and urging before him a drove of 
colts, as shaggy, as wayward, and nearly as untamed .as 
himself. 

“ How now, weak-one,” said the Puritan, with a severe 
eye, as the two lads approached him with their several 
charges from diflferent directions, and nearly at the same 
instant ; “ how now, sirrah ! dost worry the cattle in this 
gait when the eyes of the prudent are turned from thee ? 
Ho as thou wouldst be done by, is a just and healthful 
admonition, that the learned and the simple, the weak and 
the strong of mind, should alike recall to their thoughts and 
their practice. I do not know that an over-driven colt will 
be at all more apt to make a gentle and useful beast in its 
prime, than one treated with kindness and care.” 

“ I believe the evil one has got into all the kine, no less 
than into the foals,” sullenly returned the lad ; “ I’ve called 
to them in anger, and I’ve spoken to them as if they had 
been my natural kin, and yet neither fair word nor foul 
tongue will bring them to hearken to advice. There is 
something frightful in the woods this very sun-down, master ; 
or colts that I have driven the summer through, would not 
be apt to give this unfair treatment to one they pught to 
know to be their friend.” 


32 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O X - W I S H . 

“ Thy sheep are counted, Mark ? ” resumed the grand- 
father, turning towards his descendant with a' less austere, 
but always an authoritative brow ; “ thy mother hath need of 
every fleece to provide covering for thee and others like thee ; 
thou kuowest, child, that the creatures are few, and our 
winters weary and cold.” 

“ My mother’s loom shall never be idle from carelessness 
of mine,” returned the confident boy ; “ but counting and 
wishing cannot make seven-and-thirty fleeces, where there 
are only six-and-thirty backs to carry them. I have been 
an hour among the briers and bushes of the hill logging, 
looking for the lost wether, and yet neither lock, hoof, hide, 
nor horn, is there to say what hath befallen the animal.” 

“ Thou hast lost a sheep ! this carelessness will cause thy 
mother to grieve.” 

“ Grandfather, I have been no idler. Since the last hunt, 
the flock hath been allowed to browse the woods ; for no 
man, in all that week, saw wolf, panther, or bear, though 
the country was up, from the-great river to the outer settle- 
ments of the colony. The biggest four-footed animal that 
lost its hide in the muster, was a thin-ribbed deer ; and the 
stoutest battle given, was between wild Whittal Ring, here, 
and a wood-chuck that kept him at arm’s-length for the 
better part of an afternoon.” 

“ Thy tale may be true, but it neither finds that which is 
lost, nor completeth the number of thy mother’s flock. 
Hast thou ridden carefully throughout the clearing ? It is 
not long since I saw the animals grazing in that quarter. 
AVhat hast thou twisting in thy fingers, in that wasteful and 
unthankful manner, Whittal ?” 

“ M hat would make a winter blanket, if there was enough 
of it ! wool ! and wool, too, that came from the thigh of old 
Straight-Horns ; else have I forgotten a leg that gives the 
longest and coarsest hair at the shearing.” 

“ That truly seemeth a lock from the animal that is want- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


33 


ing,” exclaimed the other boy. “ There is no other creature 
in the flock with fleece so coarse and shaggy. Where found 
you the handful, Whittal Ring ?” 

“ Growing on the branch of a thorn. Queer fruit this, 
masters, to be seen where young plums ought to ripen !” 

“ Go, go,” interrupted the old man ; “ thou idlest, and 
misspendest the time in vain talk. Go, fold thy flock, Mark ; 
and do thou, weak-one, house thy charge with less uproar 
than is wont. We should remember that the voice is given 
to man, flrstly, that he may improve the blessing in thanks- 
givings and petitions ; secondly, to communicate such gifts 
as may be imparted to himself, and which it is his bounden 
duty to attempt to impart to others ; and then, thirdly, to 
declare his natural wants and inclinations.” 

With this admonition, which probably proceeded from a 
secret consciousness in the Puritan that he had permitted a 
momentary cloud of selfishness to obscure the brightness of 
his faith, the party separated. The grandson and the hire- 
ling took their several ways to the folds, while old Mark 
himself slowly continued his course towards the dwellings. 
It was near enough to the hours of darkness, to render the 
preparations we have mentioned prudent ; still, no urgency 
called for particular haste, in the return of the veteran to 
the shelter and protection of his own comfortable and secure 
abode. He therefore loitered along the path, occasionally 
stopping to look into the prospects of the young crops that 
were beginning to spring up in readiness for the coming 
year, and at times bending his gaze around the whole of his 
limited horizon, like one who had the habit of exceeding 
and unremitted care. 

One of these numerous pauses promised to be much longer 
than usual. Instead of keeping his understanding eye on 
the grain, the look of the old man appeared fastened, as by 
a charm, on some distant and obscure object. Doubt and 
uncertainty, for many minutes, seemed to mingle in his gaze. 

2 * 


34 THE W E V T OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

Pmt all hesitation had apparently disappeared, as his lips 
severed, and he spoke, perhaps unconsciously to himself, 
aloud. 

“ It is no deception,” were the low words, “ hut a living 
and an accountable creature of the Lord’s. Many a day has 
passed since such a sight hath been witnessed in this vale ; 
but my eye greatly deceives me, or yonder coraeth one 
ready to ask for hospitality, and, peradventure, for Christian 
and brotherly communion.” 

The sight of the aged emigrant had not deceived him. 
One, who appeared a wayworn and weary traveller^ had 
indeed ridden out of the forest, at a point where a path, 
that was easier to be traced by the blazed trees that lay 
along its route, than by any marks on the earth itself, issued 
into the cleared land. The progress of the stranger had at 
first been so wary and slow, as to bear the manner of ex- 
ceeding and mysterious caution. The blind road, along 
which he must have ridden not only far but hard, or night 
had certainly overtaken him in the woods, led to one of the 
distant settlements that lay near to the fertile banks of the 
Connecticut. Few ever followed its windings, but they who 
had especial affairs, or extraordinary communion, in the way 
of religious friendships, with the proprietors of the M^ish- 
Ton-Wish, as, in commemoration of the first bird that had 
been seen by the emigrants, the valley of the Heathcotes was 
called. 

Once fairly in view, any doubt or apprehension that the 
stranger might at first have entertained, disappeared. He 
rode boldly and steadily forward, until he drew a rein that 
his impoverished and weary beast gladly obeyed, within a 
few feet of the proprietor of the valley, whose gaze had 
never ceased to watch his movements, from the instant when 
the other first came within view. Before speaking, the 
stranger, a man whose head was getting grey, apparently as 
mnch with hardship as with time, and one whose great 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


35 


weight would have proved a grievous burden, in a long 
ride, to even a better-conditioned beast than the ill-favored 
• provincial hack he had ridden, dismounted, and threw the 
bridle loose upon the drooping neck of the animal. The 
latter, without a moment’s delay, and with a greediness that 
denoted long abstinence, profited by its liberty, to crop the 
herbage where it stood. 

“ I cannot be mistaken, when I suppose that I have at 
length reached the valley of the Wish-Ton-Wish,” the visi- 
tor said, touching a soiled and slouched beaver that more 
than half concealed his features. The question was put in 
an English that bespoke a descent from those who dwell in 
the midland counties of the mother country, rather than in 
that intonation which is still to be traced, equally in the 
western portions of England and in the eastern states of the 
Union. Notwithstanding the purity of his accent, there 
was enough in the form of his speech to denote a severe 
compliance with the fashion of the religionists of the times. 
He used that measured and methodical tone, which was, 
singularly enough, believed to distinguish an entire absence 
of affectation in language. 

“ Thou hast reached the dwelling of him thou seekest ; 
one who is a submissive sojourner in the wilderness of the 
world, and an humble servitor in the outer temple.” 

“ This then is Mark Heathcote !” repeated the stranger 
in tones of interest, regarding the other with a look of long, 
and, possibly, of suspicious investigation. 

“ Such is the name I bear. A fitting confidence in him 
who knows so well how to change the wilds into the haunts 
of men, and much sutfering, have made me the master of 
what thou seest. Whether thou comest to tarry a night, a 
week, a month, or even for a still longer season, as a brother 
in care, and I doubt not one who striveth for the right, I 
bid thee welcome.” 

The stranger thanked his host by a slow inclination of 


36 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the head ; but the gaze, which began to partake a little of 
the look of recognition, was still too earnest and engrossing 
to admit of verbal reply. On the other hand, though the 
old man had scanned the broad and rusty beaver, the coarse 
and well-worn doublet, the heavy boots, and, in short, the 
whole attire of his visitor, in which he saw no vain con- 
formity to idle fashions to condemn, it was evident that 
personal recollection had not the smallest influence in quick- 
ening his hospitality. 

“ Thou hast arrived happily,” continued the Puritan ; 
“ had night overtaken thee in the forest, unless much prac- 
tised in the shifts of our young woodsmen, hunger, frost, and 
a supperless bed of brush, would have given thee motive to 
think more of the body than is either profitable or seemly.” 

The stranger might possibly have known the embarrass- 
ment of these several hardships ; for the quick and uncon- 
scious glance he threw over his soiled dress should have 
betrayed some familiarity, already, with the privations to 
which his host alluded. As neither of thepi, however, seemed 
disposed to waste further time on matters of such light 
moment, the traveller put an arm through the bridle of his 
horse, and, in obedience to an invitation from the owner of 
the dwelling, they took their way towards the fortified 
edifice on the natural mound. 

The task of furnishing litter and provender to the jaded 
beast was performed by Whittal Ring, under the inspection, 
and at times under the instmctions, of its owner and his host, 
both of whom appeared to take a kind and commendable 
interest in the comfort of a faithful hack, that had evidently 
sulfered long and much in the service of its master. When 
this duty was discharged, the old man and his unknown 
guest entered the house together ; the frank and unpretend- 
ing hospitality of a country like that they were in, rendering 
suspicion or hesitation qualities that were unknown to the 
reception of a man of white blood ; more especially if he 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


37 


spoke the language of the island, which was then first send- 
ing out its swarms to subdue and possess so large a portion 
of a continent that nearly divides the earth in moieties. 



38 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH, 


CHAPTER III. 


“ This is most strange . yonr father’s In some passion 
That works him strongly.” 

Tempest. 

A FEW hours made a great change in' the occupations of 
the different members of our simple and secluded family. 
The kine had yielded their nightly tribute ; the oxen had 
been released from the yoke, and were now secure beneath 
their sheds ; the sheep were in their folds, safe from the 
assaults of the prowling wolf ; and care had been taken to 
see that everything possessing life was gathered within the 
particular defences that were provided for its security and 
comfort. But while all this caution was used in behalf of 
living things, the utmost indifference prevailed on the subject 
of that species of movable property which elsewhere would 
have been guarded with at least an equal jealousy. The 
homely fabrics of the looms of Ruth lay on their bleaching- 
ground, to drink in .the night-dew ; and ploughs, harrows, 
carts, saddles, and other similar articles, were left in situations 
so exposed as to prove that the hand of man had occupations 
so numerous and so urgent as to render it inconvenient, to 
bestow labor where it was not considered absolutely necessary. 

Content himself was the last to quit the fields and the 
out-buildings. When he reached the postern in the palisa- 
does, he stopped to call to those above him, in order to learn 
if any yet lingered without the wooden barriers. The 
answer being in the negative, he entered, and drawing-to 
the small but heavy gate, he secured it with bar, bolt, and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


39 


lock, carefully and jealously, with his own hand. As this 
was no more than a nightly and necessary precaution, the 
affairs of the family received no interruption. The meal of 
the hour was soon ended ; and conversation, with those light 
toils which arc peculiar to the long evenings of the fall and 
winter in families on the frontier, succeeded as fitting employ- 
ments to close the business of a laborious and well spent day. 

Notwithstanding the entire simplicity which marked the 
opinions and usages of the colonists at that period, and the 
great equality of condition which even to this hour distin- 
guishes the particular community of which we write, choice 
and inclination drew some natural distinctions in the ordinary, 
intercourse of the inmates of the Heathcote family. A fire 
so bright and cheerful blazed on an enormous hearth in a 
sort of upper kitchen, as to render candles or torches unne- 
cessary. Around it were seated six or seven hardy and 
athletic young men, some drawing coarse tools carefully 
through the curvatures of ox-bows, others scraping down the 
helves of axes, or perhaps fashioning sticks of birch into 
homely but convenient brooms. A demure, side-looking 
young woman kept her great wheel in motion, while one or 
two others were passing from room to room, with the nota- 
ble and stirring industry of handmaidens busied in the more 
familiar cares of the household. A door communicated with 
an inner and superior apartment. Here was a smaller but 
an equally cheerful fire, a fioor which had recently been 
swept, while that without had been freshly sprinkled with 
river sand ; candles of tallow, on a table of cherry-wood 
from the neighboring forest ; walls that were wainscoted in 
the black oak of the country, and a few other articles of a 
fashion so antique, and of ornaments so ingenious and rich, 
as to announce that they had been transported from beyond 
sea. Above the mantel were suspended the armorial bear- 
ings of the Heathcotes and the Hardings, elaborately 
emblazoned in tent-stitch. 


40 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


The principal personages of the family were seated around 
the latter hearth, while a straggler from the other room of 
more than usual curiosity had placed himself among them, 
marking the distinction in ranks, or rather in situation, 
merely by the extraordinary care which he took that 
none of the scrapings should litter the spotless oaken 
floor. 

Until this period of the evening, the duties of hospitality 
and the observances of religion had prevented familiar dis- 
course. But the ofiices of the housewife were now ended 
for the night, the handmaidens had all retired to their 
wheels, and, as the bustle of a busy and more stirring 
domestic industry ceased, the cold and self-restrained silence 
which had hitherto only been broken by distant and brief 
observations of courtesy, or by some wholesome allusion to 
the lost and probationary condition of man, seemed to invite 
an intercourse of a more general character. 

“You entered my clearing by the southern path,” com- 
menced Mark Heathcote, addressing himself to his guest 
with sufficient courtesy, “ and needs must bring tidings from 
the towns on the river side. . Has aught been done by our 
councillors at home, in the matter that pertaineth so closely 
to the well-being of this colony ?” 

“ You would have me say whether he that now sitteth on 
the throne of England hath listened to the petitions of his 
people in this province, and hath granted them protection 
against the abuses which might so readily flow out of his 
own ill-advised will, or out of the violence and injustice of 
his successors?” ^ 

“ We will render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, 
and speak reverently of men having authority. I would 
fain know whether the agent sent by our people hath gained 
the ears of those who counsel the prince, and obtained that 
which he sought ?” 

“ He hath done more,” returned the stranger, with singu- 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


41 


lar asperity; “he hath even gained the ear of the Lord’s 
Anointed.” 

“ Then is Charles of better mind and of stronger justice 
than report hath spoken. AVe were told that light manners 
and unprofitable companions had led him to think more of 
the vanities of the world and less of the wants of those over 
whom he hath been called by Providence to rule, than is 
meet for one that sitteth on a high place. I rejoice that the 
arguments of the man we sent have prevailed over more 
evil promptings, and that peace and freedom of conscience 
are likely to bo the fruits of the undertaking. In what 
manner hath he seen fit to order the future government of 
this people ?” 

“ Much as it hath ever stood — by their own ordinances. 
Winthrop hath returned, and is the bearer of a Royal Char- 
ter which granteth all the rights long claimed and practised. 
None now dwell under the Crown of Britain with fewer 
offensive demands on their consciences, or with lighter calls 
on their political duties, than the men of Connecticct.” 

“It is fitting that thanks should be rendered therefor 
where thanks are most due,” said the Puritan, folding his 
hands on his bosom, and sitting for a moment with closed 
eyes, like one who communed with an unseen being. “ Is it 
known by what manner of argument the Lord moved the 
heart of the Prince to hearken to our wants ; or was it an 
open and manifest token of his power ?” 

“ I think it must needs have been the latter,” rejoined the 
visitor, with a manner that grew still more caustic and 
emphatic. “ The bauble, that was the visible agent, could 
not have weig^ ed greatly with one so proudly seated before 
the eyes of men.” 

Until this point in the discourse. Content and Ruth, with 
their offspring, and the two or three other individuals who 
composed the audience, had listened with the demure gravity 
which characterized the manners of the country. The Ian- 


42 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

giiage, united with the ill-concealed sarcasm conveyed by the 
countenance, no less than the emphasis of the speaker, caused 
them now to raise their eyes, as by a common impulse. The 
word “ bauble” was audibly and curiously repeated. But the 
look of cold irony liad already passed from the features of 
the stranger, and it had given place to a stern and fixed 
austerity that imparted a character of grimness to his hard 
and sunburnt visage. Still he betrayed no disposition to 
shrink from the subject; but, after regarding his auditors 
with a glance in which pride and suspicion were strongly 
blended, he resumed the discourse. 

“ It is known,” he added, “ that the grandfather of him 
the good people of these settlements have commissioned to 
bear their wants over sea, lived in the favor of the man who 
last sat upon the throne of England ; and a rumor goeth 
forth, that the Stuart, in a moment of princely condescen- 
sion, once decked the finger of his subject with a ring wrought 
in a curious fashion. It was a token of the love which a 
monarch may bear a man.” 

“ Such gifts are beacons of friendship, but may not be 
used as gay and sinful ornaments,” observed Mark, while the 
other paused like one who wished none of the bitterness of 
his allusions to be lost. 

“ It matters not whether the bauble lay in the coflfers of 
the Winthrops, or has long been glittering before the eyes 
of the faithful, in the Bay, since it hath finally proved to be 
a jewel of price,” continued the stranger. “ It is said in 
secret that this ring hath returned to the finger of a Stuart, 
and it is openly proclaimed that Connecticut hath a Charter!” 

Content and his wife regarded each other in melancholy 
amazement. Such an evidence of wanton levity and of 
unworthiness of motive, in one who was intrusted with the 
gift of earthly government, pained their simple and upright 
minds, while old Mark, of still more decided and exaggerated 
ideas of spiritual perfection, distinctly groaned aloud. The 


THE' WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


43 


stranger took a sensible pleasure in this testimony of their 
abhorrence of so gross and so unworthy a venality, though 
he saw no occasion to heighten its effect by further speech. 
When his host stood erect, and in a voice that was accus- 
tomed to obedience called on his family to join, in behalf 
of the reckless ruler of the land of their fathers, in a petition 
to Him who alone could soften the hearts of Princes, he also 
arose from his seat. But even in this act of devotion, the 
stranger bore the air of one who wished to do pleasure to 
his entertainers, rather than to obtain that which was 
asked. 

The prayer, though short, was pointed, fervent, and suffi- 
ciently personal. The wheels in the outer room ceased 
their hum, and a general movement denoted that all there 
had arisen to join in the office ; while one or two of their 
number, impelled by deeper piety or stronger interest, drew 
near to the open door between the rooms, in order to listen. 
With this singular but characteristic interruption, that par- 
ticular branch of the discourse, which had given rise to it, 
altogether ceased. 

“ And have we reason to dread a rising of the savages on 
the borders asked Content, when he found that the moved 
spirit of his father was not yet sufficiently calmed to return 
to the examination of temporal things ; “ one who brought 
wares from the towns below, a few months since, recited 
reasons to fear a movement among the red men.” 

The subject had not sufficient interest to open the ears 
of the stranger. He was deaf, or he chose to affect deafness, 
to the interrogatory. Laying his two large and weather- 
worn, though still muscular hands, on a visage that was 
much darkened by exposure, he appeared to shut out the 
objects of the world, while he communed deeply, and, as 
would seem by a slight tremor, that shook even his power- 
ful frame, terribly, with his own thoughts. 

“We have many to whom our hearts strongly cling* to 


44 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 


lieighten tlie smallest s3rmptom of alarm from tliat quarter,” 
added the tender and anxious mother, her eye glancing at 
the uplifted countenances of two little girls, who, busied 
with their light needle-work, sate on stools at her feet. 

“ But I rejoice to see that one, who hath journeyed from 
parts where the minds of the savages must he better under- 
stood, hath not feared to do it unarmed.” 

The traveller slowly uncovered his features, and the glance 
that his eye shot over the face of the last speaker was not 
without a gentle and interested expression. Instantly reco- 
vering his composure, he arose, and, turning to the double 
leathern sack, which had been borne on the crupper of his 
nag, and which now lay at no great distance from his seat, 
he drew a pair of horseman’s pistols from two well contrived 
pockets in its sides, and laid them deliberately on the table. 

“ Though little disposed to seek an encounter with any 
bearing the image of man,” he said, “ I have not neglected 
the usual precautions of those who enter the wilderness. 
Here are weapons that, in steady hands, might easily take 
life, or, at need, preserve it.” 

The young Mark drew near with boyish curiosity, and 
while one finger ventured to touch a lock, as he stole a 
conscious glance of wrong-doing towards his mother, he 
said, with as much of contempt in his air as the schooling 
of his manners would allow 

“ An Indian arrow would make a surer aim than a bore 
as short as this ! When the trainer fron^^e Hartford 
town struck the wild-cat on the hill clearing, he sent the 
bullet from a five-foot barrel ; besides, this short-sighted gun 
would be a dull weapon in a hug against the keen-edged 
knife that the wicked Wampanoag is known to carry.” 

“ Boy, thy years are few, and thy boldness of speech ' 
marvellous,” sternly interrupted his parent in the second 
degree. 

The stranger manifested no displeasure at the confident 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 45 

language of the lad. Encouraging him with a look, which 
plainly proclaimed that martial qualities in no degree les- 
sened the stripling in his favor, he observed that — 

“ The youth who is not afraid to tl\ink of the fight, or to 
reason on its chances, will lead to a manhood of spirit and 
independence. A hundred thousand striplings like this 
might have spared Winthrop his jewel, and the Stuart the 
shame of yielding to so vain and so trivial a bribe. But 
thou mayst also see, child, that had we come to the death- 
hug, the wicked Wampanoag might have found a blade as 
keen as his own.” 

The stranger, while speaking, loosened a few, strings oi 
his doublet, and thrust a hand into his bosom. The action 
enabled more than one eye to catch a momentary glimpse 
of a weapon of the same description, but of a size much 
smaller than those he had already so freely exhibited. As 
he immediately withdrew the member, and again closed the 
garment with studied care, no one presumed to advert to 
the circumstance, but all turned their attention to the long 
sharp hunting-knife that he deposited by the side of the 
pistols, as he concluded. Mark ventured to open its blade, 
but he turned away with sudden consciousness, when he 
found that a few fibres of coarse, shaggy wool, that were 
drawn from the loosened joint, adhered to his fingers. 

“ Straight-Horns has been against a bush sharper than 
the thorn !” exclaimed Whittal Ring, who had been at 
hand, and who watched with childish admiration the small- 
est proceedings of the different individuals. “ A steel for 
the back of the blade, a few dried leaves and broken sticks, 
with such a carver, would soon make roast and broiled of 
the old bell-wether himself. I know that the. hair of all my 
colts is sorrel, and I counted five at sundown, which is just 
as many as went loping through the underbrush when I 
loosened them from the hopples in the morning ; but six- 
and-thirty backs can never carry seven-and-thirty growing 


46 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

fleeces of unshearcd wool. Master knows that, for he is a 
scholar and can count a hundred !” 

The allusion to the fate of the lost sheep was so plain, as 
to admit of no misinterpretation of the meaning of the wit- 
less speaker. Animals of that class were of the last import- 
ance to the comfort of the settlers, and there was not pro- 
bably one within hearing of Whittal Ring that was at all 
ignorant of the import of his words. Indeed, the loud 
chuckle and the open and deriding manner with which the 
lad himself held above his head the hairy fibres that he had 
snatched from young Mark, allowed of no concealment had 
it been desirable. 

“ This feeble-gifted youth would hint that thy knife hath 
proved its edge on a wether that is missing from our flock, 
since the animals went on their mountain range in the 
morning,” said the host, calmly ; though even he bent his 
eye to the floor, as he waited for an answer to a remark, 
direct as the one his sense of justice, and his indomitable 
love of right, had prompted. ^ 

The stranger demanded, in a voice that lost none of its 
depth pr firmness, “ Is hunger a crime, that they who dwell 
so far from the haunts of selfishness visit it with their 
anger ?” 

“ The foot of Christian man never approached the gates 
of Wish-Ton -Wish to be turned away in uncharitableness, 
but that which is freely given. sh<^ld not be taken in licen- 
tiousness. From off the hill where my flock is wont to graze, 
it is easy, through many an opening of the forest, to see these 
roofs ; and it would have been better that the body should 
languish, than that a grievous sin should be placed on that 
immortal spirit which is already too deeply laden, unless 
thou art far more happy than others of the fallen race of 
Adam.” 

“ Mark Heathcote,” said the accused, and ever with an 
unwavering tone, “ look further at those weapons, which, if 


THE WEPT OP W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 


47 


a guilty man, I have weakly placed within thy power. Thou 
wilt find more there to wonder at, than a few straggling 
hairs that the spinner would cast from her as too coarse foi 
service.” 

“ It is long since I found pleasure in handling the weapons 
of strife ; may it he longer to the time when they shall he 
needed in this abode of peace. These are instruments of 
death, resembling those used in my youth, by cavaliers that 
rode in the levies of the first Charles and of his pusillani- 
mous father. There was worldly pride and great vanity, 
with much and damning ungodliness in the wars that I have 
seen, my children ; and' yet the carnal man found pleasure 
in the stirrings of those graceless days! Come hither, 
younker; thou hast often sought to know the manner in 
which the horsemen are wont to lead into the combat, 
when th(; broad-mouthed artillery and pattering leaden hail 
havfe cleared a passage for the struggle of horse to horse, 
and man to man. Much of the justification of these com- 
bats imist depend on the inward spirit, and on the temper 
of him that striketh at the life of a fellow-sinner; but right- 
eous . Joshua, it is known, contended with the heathen 
throughout a supernatural day; and, therefore, always 
humbly confiding that our cause is just, I will open to thy 
young mind the uses of a weapon that hath never before 
been seen in these forests.” 

“I have hefted many a heavier piece than this,” said 
young Mark, frowning equally with the exertion and with 
the instigations of his aspiring spirit, as he held out the 
ponderous weapon in a single hand ; “ we have guns that 
might tame a wolf with greater certainty than any barrel 
of a bore less than my own height. Tell me, grand’ther ; 
at what distance do the mounted warriors you so often name 
take their sight?” 

But the power of speech appeared suddenly to have 
deserted the aged veteran. He had interrupted his own 


48 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

discourse, and now, instead of answering the interrogatory 
of the boy, his eye wandered slowly and with a look of 
painful doubt from the weapon, that he still held before him, 
to the countenance of the stranger. The latter continued 
erect, like one courting a strict and meaning examination of 
his person. This dumh-show could not fail to attract the 
observation of Content. Rising from his seat, with that 
quiet but authoritative manner which is still seen in the 
domestic government of the people of the region where he 
dwelt, he beckoned to all present to quit the apartment. 
Ruth and her daughters, the hirelings, the ill-gifted Whit- 
tal, and even the reluctant Mark, preceded him to the door, 
which he closed with respectful care ; and then the whole 
of the wondering party mingled with those of the outer 
room, leaving the one they had quitted to the sole posses- 
sion of the aged chief of the settlement, and to his still 
unknown and mysterious guest. 

Many anxious, and to those who were excluded, seemingly 
interminable minutes passed, and the secret interview Ap- 
peared to draw no nearer its close. That deep reverence which 
the years, paternity, and character of the grandfather had 
inspired, prevented all from approaching the quarter of the 
apartment nearest the room they had left ; but a silence, 
still as the grave, did all that silence could do to enlighten 
their minds in a matter of so much general interest. The 
deep, smothered sentences of the speakers were often heard, 
each dwelling with steadiness and propriety on his particu- 
lar theme, but no sound that conveyed meaning to the 
minds of those without passed the envious walls. At length, 
the voice of old Mark became more than usually audible ; 
and then Content arose, with a gesture to those around him 
to imitate his example. The young men threw aside the 
subjects of their light employments, the maidens left the 
wheels which had not been turned for many minutes, and 
the whole party disposed themselves m the decent and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 49 

simple attitude of prayer. For the third time that evening 
was the voice of the Puritan heard, pouring out his spirit in 
a communion with that Being on whom it was his practice 
to repose all his worldly cares. But though long ac- 
customed to all the peculiar forms of utterance by which 
their father ordinarily expressed his pious emotions, neither 
Content nor his attentive partner was enabled to decide on 
the nature of the feeling that was now uppermost. At 
times it appeared to be the language of thanksgiving, and 
at others it assumed more of the imploring sounds of depre- 
cation and petition ; in short, it was so varied, and, though 
tranquil, so equivocal, if such a term may be applied to so 
serious a subject, as completely to baffle every conjecture. 

Long and weary minutes passed after the voice had en- 
tirely ceased, and yet no summons was given to the expect- 
ing family, nor did any sound proceed from the inner room 
which the respectful son was emboldened to construe into 
evidence that he might presume to enter. At length ap- 
prehension began to mingle with conjectures, and then the 
husband and wife communed apart, in whispers. The mis- 
givings and doubt of the former soon manifested themselves 
m still more apparent forms. He arose, and was seen 
pacing the wide apartment, gradually approaching nearer to 
the partition which separated the two rooms, evidently pre- 
pared to retire beyond the limits of hearing, the moment 
he should detect any proofs that his uneasiness was without 
a sufflcient cause. Still no sound proceeded from the inner 
room. The breathless silence which had so shortly before 
reigned where he was, appeared to be suddenly transferred 
to the spot in which he was vainly endeavoring to detect 
the smallest proof of human existence. Again he returned 
to Ruth, and again they consulted in low voices, as to the 
step that filial duty seemed to require at their hands. 

“ We were not bidden to Avithdraw,’’ said his gentle com- 
panion; “why not rejoin our parent, now that time has 

3 


50 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

been given to understand the subject which so evidently 
disturbed his mind ? ” 

Content, at length, yielded to this opinion. With that 
cautious discretion which distinguishes his people, he 
motioned to the family to follow, in order that no unne- 
cessary exclusion should give rise to conjectures or excite 
suspicions, of which, after all, the circumstances might 
prove no justification. Notwithstanding the subdued man- 
ners of the age and country, curiosity, and perhaps a better 
feeling, had become so intense, as to cause all present to 
obey this silent mandate, by mo\dng as swiftly towards the 
open door as a never-yielding decency of demeanor would 
permit. 

Old Mark Heathcote occupied the chair in which he had 
been left, with that calm and unbending gravity of eye and 
features which were then thought indispensable to a fitting 
sobriety of spirit. But the stranger had disappeared. 
There were two or three outlets by which the room, and 
even the house might be quitted, without the knowledge of 
those who had so long waited for admission ; and the first 
impression led the family to expect the reappearance of the 
absent man through one of these exterior passages. Con- 
tent, however, read in the expression of his father’s eye 
that the moment of confidence, if it were ever to arrive, 
had not yet come ; and so admirable and perfect was the 
domestic discipline of this family, that the questions which 
the son did not see fit to propound, no one of inferior con- 
dition, or lesser age, might presume to agitate. With the 
person of the stranger, every evidence of his recent -vusit 
had also vanished. 

Mark missed the weapon that had excited his admiration ; 
Whittal looked in vain for the hunting-knife, which had 
betrayed the fate of the wether; Mrs. Heathcote saw by a 
hasty glance of the eye, that the leathern sacks, which she 
had borne in mind ought to be transferred to the sleeping 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH, 


51 


apartment of their guest, were gone ; and a mild and play- 
ful image of herself, who bore her name no less than most 
of those features which had rendered her own youth more 
than usually attractive, sought, without success, a massive 
silver spur, of curious and antique workmanship, which she 
had been permitted to handle until the moment when the 
family had been commanded to withdraw. 

The night had now worn later than the hour at which it 
was usual for people of habits so simple to be out of their 
beds. The grandfather lighted a taper, and, after bestowing 
the usual blessing on those around him, with an air as calm 
as if nothing had occurred, he prepared to retire into his 
own room. And yet, matter of interest seemed to linger on 
his mind. Even on the threshold of the door, he turned, 
and, for an instant, all expected some explanation of a cir- 
cumstance which began to wear no little of the aspect of an 
exciting and painful mystery. But their, hopes were raised 
only to be disappointed. . 

“ My thoughts have not kept the passage of the time,” he 
said. “ In what hour of the night are we, my son ?” 

He was told that it was already past the usual moment 
of sleep, 

“No matter; that which Providence hath bestowed for 
our comfort and support, should not be lightly and unthank- 
fully disregarded. Take thou the beast I am wont to ride, 
thyself. Content, and follow the path which leadeth to the 
mountain clearing ; bring away that which shall meet thine 
eye, near the first turning of the route towards the river 
towns. We have got into the last quarter of the year, and 
in order that our industry may not flag, and that all may be 
stirring with the sun, let the remainder of the household 
seek their rest.” 

Content saw, by the manner of his father, that no depart- 
ure from the strict letter of these instructions was admissible, 
lie closed the door after his retiring form, and then, by a 


52 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

quiet gesture of authority, indicated'^to his dependants that 
they were expected to withdraw. The maidens of Ruth led 
the children to their chambers, and in a few more minutes 
none remained in the outer apartment, already so often 
named, but the obedient son, with his anxious and affection- 
ate consort. 

“ I will be thy companion, husband,” Ruth half-whisper- 
ingly commenced, so soon as the little domestic preparations 
for leaving the fires and securing the doors were ended. “ I 
like not that thou should’ st go into the forest alone, at so 
late an hour of the night.” 

“ One will be with me, there, who never deserteth those 
who rely on his protection. Besides, my Ruth, what is 
there to apprehend in a wilderness like this? The beasts 
have been lately hunted from the hills, and excepting those 
who dwell under our own roof, there is not one within a 
long day’s ride.” 

“We know not ! Wliere is the stranger that came within 
our doors as the sun was setting ?” 

“ As thou sayest, we know not. My father is not minded 
to open his lips on the subject of this traveller, and surely 
we are not now to learn the lessons of obedience and self- 
denial.” 

“ It would, notwithstanding, be a great* easing to the 
spirit to hear at least the name of him who hath eaten of 
our bread, and joined in our family worship, though he 
were immediately to pass away for ever from before the 
sight.” 

“That may he have done, already!” returned the less 
curious and more self-restrained husband. “ My father wills 
not that we inquire.” 

“ And yet there can be little sin in knowing the condition 
of one whose fortunes and movements can excite neither 
our envy nor our strife. I would that we had tarried for a 
closer mingling in the prayers ; it was not seemly to desert 


THE WEPT OF W IS H - T O N - W I S H . 


63 


a guest who, it would appear, had need of an especial up- 
offering in his behalf.” 

“ Our spirits joined in the asking, though our ears were 
shut to the matter of his wants. But it will be needful that 
I should be afoot with the young men, in the morning, and 
a mile of measurement would not reach to the turning, in 
the path to the river towns. Go with me to the postern, 
and look to the fastenings ; I will not keep thee long on thy 
watch.” 

Content and his wife now quitted the dwelling, by the 
only door that was left unbarred. Lighted by a moon that 
was full, though clouded, they passed a gateway between 
two of the outer buildings, and descended to the palisadoes. 
The bars and bolts of the little postern were removed, and 
in a fe^ minutes, the former, mounted on the back of his 
father’s own horse, was galloping briskly along the path 
which led into the part of the forest he was directed te 
seek. 

While the husband was thus proceeding, in obedience U 
orders that he never hesitated to obey, his faithful wife with- 
drew within the shelter of the wooden defences. More in 
compliance with a precaution that was become habitual, 
than from any present causes of suspicion, she drew a single 
bolt and remained at the postern, anxiously awaiting the 
result of a movement that was as unaccountable as it was 
extraordinary. 


54 


THE WE PT OF WISH-TOK-WISH, 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand you 
In this strange stare ?” 

Tempest. 


As a girl, Ruth Harding had been one of the mildest 
and gentlest of the human race. Though new impulses had 
been given to her naturally kind affections by the attach- 
ments of a wife and mother, her dispositions suffered no 
change by marriage. Obedient, disinterested, and devoted 
to those she loved, as her parents had known her, so, by the 
experience of many years, had she proved to Content. * In 
the midst of the utmost equanimity of temper and of de- 
portment, her watchfid solicitude in behalf of the few who 
formed the limited circle of her existence, never slumbered. 
It dwelt unpretendingly but active in her gentle bosom, like 
a great and moving principle of life. Though circum- 
stances had placed her on a remote and exposed frontier, 
where time had not been given for the several customary 
divisions of employments, she was unchanged m 'habits, in 
feelings, and in character. The affluence of her husband 
had elevated her above the necessity of burdensome toil ; 
and, while she had encountered the dangers of the wilder- 
ness, and neglected none of the duties of her active station, 
she had escaped most of those injurious consequences which 
arc a little apt to impair the peculiar loveliness of women. 
Notwithstanding the exposure of a border life, she remained 
feminine, attractive, and singularly youthful. 

The reader will readily imagine the state of mind with 
which such a being watched the distant form of a husband, 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


55 


engaged in a duty like that we have described. Notwith- 
standing the influence of long habit, the forest was rarely 
approached after night-fall by the boldest woodsman, Avith- 
out some secret consciousness that he encountered a positive 
danger. It was the hour when its roaming and hungry 
tenants Avcre known to be most in motion ; and the rustling 
of a leaf or the snapping of a dried twig beneath the light 
tread of the smallest animal, was apt to conjure up images of 
the voracious and flre-eyed panther, or perhaps of a lurking 
biped, which, though more artful, was known to be scarcely 
less savage. It is true, that hundreds experienced the un- 
easiness of such sensations, who were never fated to under- 
go the realities of the fearful pictures. Still facts were not 
wanting to supply sufiicient motive for a grave and reason- 
able apprehension. 

Histories of combats with beasts of prey, and of massa- 
cres by roving and lawless Indians, Avere the moving legends 
of the border. Thrones might be subverted and kingdoms 
lost and won in distant Europe, and less Avould be said of 
the events by those Avho dwelt in these Avoods, than of one 
scene of peculiar and striking forest incident that called for 
the exercise of the stout courage and the keen intelligence 
of a settler. Such a tale passed from mouth to mouth, 
with the eagerness of powerful personal interest, and many 
were already transmitted from parent to child, in the form 
of tradition, until, as in more artiflcial communities graver 
improbabilities creep into the doubtful pages of history, 
exaggeration became too closely blended Avith truth, ever 
again to be separated. 

Under the influence of these feelings, and perhaps 
prompted by his never-failing discretion. Content had 
throAvn a well-tried piece over his shoulder ; and when he 
rose the ascent on which his father had met the stranger, 
Ruth caught a glimpse of his form, bending on the neck of 
his horse, and gliding through the misty light of the hour. 


56 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

resembling one of those fancied images of wayward and 
hard-riding sprites, of which the tales of the eastern conti- 
nent are so fond of speaking. 

Then followed anxious moments, during which neither 
sight nor hearing could in the least aid the conjectures of 
the attentive wife. She listened without breathing, and 
once or twice she thought the blows of hoofs falling on the 
earth harder and quicker than common, might* be distin- 
guished ; but it was only as Content mounted the sudden 
ascent of the hill-side that he was again seen, for a brief 
instant, while dashing swiftly into the cover of the woods. 

Though Ruth had been familiar with the cares of the 
frontier, perhaps she had never known a moment more in- 
tensely painful than that, when the form of her husband 
became blended with the dark trunks of the trees. The 
time was to her impatience longer than usual, and under 
the excitement of a feverish inquietude that had no definite 
object, she removed the single bolt that held the postern 
closed, and passed entirely without the stockade. To her 
oppressed senses the palisadoes appeared to place limits to 
her vision. Still weary minute passed after minute, without 
bringing relief. During these anxious moments she became 
'more than usually conscious of the insulated situation in 
which he and all who were dearest to her heart were 
placed. The feelings of a wife prevailed. Quitting the 
side of the acclivity, she began to walk slowly along the 
path her husband had taken, until apprehension insensibly 
urged her into a quicker movement. She had paused only 
when she stood nearly in the centre of the clearing, on the 
eminence where her father had halted that evening to con- 
template the growing improvement of his estate. 

Here her steps were suddenly arrested, for she thought a 
form was issuing from the forest, at that interesting spot 
which her eyes had never ceased to watch. It proved to be 
no more than the passing shadow of a cloud, denser than 


THE WEPT OF W IS II -TON- WISH 57 

common, which threw the body of its darkness on the trees, 
and a portion of its outline on the ground near the margin 
of the wood. Just at this instant the recollection that she 
had incautiously left the postern open, flashed upon her 
mind, and, with feelings divided between husband and chil- 
dren, she commenced her return, in order to repair a 
neglect, to which habit, no less than prudence, imparted a 
high degree of culpability. The eyes of the mother, for 
the feelings of that sacred character were now powerfully 
uppermost, were fastened on the ground, as she eagerly 
picked her way along the uneven surface ; and so engrossed 
was her mind by the omission of duty, with which she was 
severely reproaching herself, that they drank in objects 
without conveying distinct or intelligible images to her 
brain. 

Notwithstanding the one engrossing thought of the mo- 
ment, something met her eye that caused even the vacant 
organ to recoil, and every- fibre in her frame to tremble 
with terror. There was a moment in which delirium nearly 
heightened terror to madness. Reflection came only when 
Ruth had reached the distance of many feet from the spot 
where this startling object had half unconsciously crossed 
her vision. Then for a single and a fearful instant she 
paused, like one who debated on the course she ought to 
follow. Maternal love prevailed, and the deer of her 
own woods scarcely bounds with greater agility than the 
mother of the sleeping and defenceless family now fled 
towards the dwellings. Panting and breathless she gained 
the postern, which was closed with hands that performed 
their office more by instinct than in obedience to thought, 
and doubly and trebly barred. 

For the first time in some minutes Ruth now breathed 
distinctly and without pain. She strove to rally her 
thoughts, in order to deliberate on the course that pru- 
dence and her duty to Content, who was still exposed 
3 ^ 


58 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

to the danger she had herself escaped, prescribed. Her 
first impulse was to give the established signal that was to 
recall the laborers from the field, or to awake the sleepers, 
in the event of an alarm ; hut better reflection told her that 
such a step might prove fatal to him who balanced in her 
affections against the rest of the world. The struggle in 
her mind only ended as she clearly and unequivocally 
caught a view cf her husband, issuing from the forest at 
the very point where he had entered. The return path, un- 
fortunately, led directly past the spot where such sudden 
terror had seized her mind. She would have given worlds 
to have known how to apprise him of a danger with which 
her own imagination was full, without communicating the 
warning to other and terrible ears. The night was still, 
and though the distance was considerable, it was not so 
great as to render the chances of success desperate. 
Scarcely knowing what she did, and yet preserving, by a 
sort of instinctive prudence, the caution which constant ex- 
posure weaves into all our habits, the trembling woman made 
the effort. 

“Husband! husband!” she cried, commencing plaintively, 
but her voice rising with the energy of excitement. “Hus- 
band, ride swiftly ; our little Ruth lieth in the agony. For 
her life and thine, ride at thy horse’s speed. Seek not the 
stables, but come with all haste to the postern, it shall be 
open to thee.” 

This was certainly a fearful summons for a father’s ear, 
and there is little doubt that, had the feeble powers of Ruth 
succeeded in conveying the words as far as she had wished, 
they would have produced the desired effect. But in vain 
did she call; her weak tones, though raised on the notes 
of keenest apprehension, could not force their way across so 
wide a space. And yet had she reason to think they were 
not entirely lost, for once her husband paused and seemed 
to listen, and once he quickened the pace of his horse; 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 59 

though neither of these proofs of intelligence was followed 
by any further signs of his haying understood the alarm. 

Content was now upon the hillock itself. If Ruth 
breathed at all during its passage, it was more imperceptible 
than the gentlest respiration of the sleeping infant. But 
when she saw him trotting with unconscious security along 
the path on the side next the dwellings, her impatience 
broke through all restraint, and throwing open the postern, 
she renewed her cries, in a voice that was no longer useless* 
The clattering of the unshodden hoof was again rapid, and 
in another minute her husband galloped unharmed to her 
side. 

“Enter!” said the nearly dizzy wife, seizing the bridle and 
leading the horse within the palisadoes. “Enter, husband, 
for the love of all that is thine ; enter, and be thankful.” 

“What meaneth this terror, Ruth?” demanded Content, 
in as much displeasure, perhaps, as he could manifest to one 
so gentle, for a weakness betrayed in his own behalf , “ is 
thy confidence in Him whose eye never closeth, and who 
equally watcheth the life of man and that of the falling 
sparrow, lost ?” 

Ruth was deaf. With hurried hands she drew the fasten- 
ings, let fall the bars, and turned a key which forced a 
triple-bolted lock to perform its office. Not till then did 
she feel either safe herself, or at liberty to render thanks for 
the safety of him, over whose danger she had so lately 
watched in agony. 

“Why this care? Hast forgotten that the horse will 
suffer hunger, at this distance from the rack and manger?” 

“Better that he starve, than hair of thine should come to 
harm.” 

“Nay, nay, Ruth ; dost not remember that the beast is 
the favorite of my father, who will ill brook his passing 
a night within the palisadoes?” 

“Husband, you err; there is one in the fields.” 


60 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“Is there place, where One is not?” 

“But I have seen creature of mortal birth, and creature 
too that hath no claim on thee or thine, and who trespass- 
eth on our peace, no less than on our natural rights, to be 
where he lurketh ” 

“ Go to ; thou art not used to be so late from thy pillow, 
my poor Kuth ; sleep hath' come over thee, whilst standing 
on thy watch. Some cloud hath left its shadow on the 
fields, or, truly, it may be that the hunt did not drive the 
beasts as far from the clearing as we had thought. Come ; 
since thou wilt cling to my side, lay hand on the bridle of 
the horse, while I ease him of his burden.” 

As Content coolly proceeded to the task he had men- 
tioned, the thoughts of his wife were momentarily diverted 
from their other sources of uneasiness, by the object which 
lay on the crupper of the nag, and which, until now, had 
entirely escaped her observation. 

“ Here is, indeed, the animal this day missing from our 
flock !” she exclaimed, as the carcass of a sheep fell heavily 
on the ground. 

“ Aye ; and killed with exceeding judgment, if not aptly 
dressed to our hands. Mutton will not be wanting for the 
husking-feast, and the stalled creature whose days were 
counted may live another season.” 

“ And where didst find the slaughtered beast ?” 

“ On the limb jof a growing hickory. Eben Dudley, with 
all his sleight in butchering, and in s’etting forth the excel- 
lence of his meats, could not have left an animal hanging 
from the branch of a sapling with greater knowledge of his 
craft. Thou seest, but a single meal is missing from the 
carcass, and that thy fleece is unharmed.” 

“This is not the work of a Pequod !” exclaimed Ruth,' 
surprised at her own discovery ; “ the red men do their 
mischief with less care.” 

“ Nor has the tooth of wolf opened the veins of poor 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


61 


Straight-Horns. Here has been judgment in the slaughter- 
ing, as well as prudence in consumption of the food. The 
hand that cut so lightly had intention of a second visit.” 

“ And our father bid thee seek the creature where it was 
found ! Husband, I fear some heavy judgment for the sins 
of the parents is likely to befall the children.” 

“ The babes are quietly in their slumbers, and, thus far, 
little wrong hath been done us. I’ll cast the halter from 
the stalled animal ere I sleep, and Straight-Horns shall con- 
tent us for the husking. We may have mutton less savory 
for this evil chance, but the number of thy flock will be 
unaltered.” 

“ And where is he who hath mingled in our prayers, and 
hath eaten of our bread ; he who counselled so long in 
secret with our father, and who hath now vanished from 
among us like a vision ?” 

“ That indeed is a question not readily to be answered,” 
returned Content, who had hitherto maintained a cheerful 
air, in order to appease what he was fain to believe a cause- 
less terror in the bosom of his partner, but who was induced 
by this question to drop his head like one that sought rea- 
sons within the repository of his own thoughts. “ It mat- 
tereth not, Ruth Heathcote ; the ordering of the affair is in 
the hands of a man of many years and great experience ; 
should his aged wisdom fail, do we not know that one even 
wiser than he hath us in his keeping ? I will return the 
beast to his rack, and when we shall have jointly asked 
favor of eyes that never sleep, we will go in confldence to 
our rest.” 

“ Husband, thou quittest not the palisadoes again this 
night,” said Ruth, arresting the hand that had already drawn 
a bolt, ere she spoke. “ I have a warning of evil.” 

“ I would the stranger had found some other shelter in 
which to pass his short resting season. That he hath made 
free with my flock, and that he hath administered to his 


62 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


• hunger at some cost, when a single asking would have made 
him welcome to the best that the owner of the Wish-Ton- 
Wish can command, are truths that may not be denied. 
Still is he mortal man, as a goodly appetite hath proven, 
even should our belief in Providence so far waver as to har- 
bor doubts of its unwillingness to suffer beings of injustice 
to wander in our forms and substance. I tell thee, Ruth, 
that the nag will be needed for to-morrow’s service, and 
that our father will give but ill thanks should we leave it to 
make a bed on this cold hill-side. Go to thy rest and to 
thy prayers, trembler ; I will close the postern with all care. 
Fear not ; the stranger is of human wants, and his agency 
to do evil must needs be limited by human power.” 

“ I fear none of white blood, nor of Christian parentage ; - 
the murderous heathen is in our fields.” 

“ Thou dreamest, Ruth !” 

“ ’Tis not a dream. I have seen the glowing eyeballs of 
a savage. Sleep was little like to come over me when set 
upon a watch like this. I thought me that the errand was 
of unknown character, and that our father was exceedingly 
aged, and that perchance his senses might be duped, and 
how an obedient son ought not to be exposed. Thou know- 
est, Hcathcote, that I could not look upon the danger of my 
children’s father with indifference, and I followed to the 
nut-tree hillock.” 

“ To the nut-tree . It was not prudent in thee — but the 
postern ?” 

“ It was open ; for were the key turned, who was there to 
admit us quickly had haste been needed ?” returned Ruth, 
momentarily averting her face to conceal the flush excited 
by conscious delinquency. “Though I failed in caution, 
’twas for thy safety, Heathcote. But on that hillock, and 
in the hollow left by a fallen tree, lies concealed a heathen !” 

“ I passed the nut-wood in going to the shambles .of our 
strange butcher, and I drew the rein to give breath to the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


63 


nag near it, as we returned with the burden. It cannot 
be ; some creature of the forest hath alarmed thee.” 

“ Aye ! creature, formed, fashioned, gifted like ourselves, 
in all but color of the skin and blessing of the faith.” 

“ This is strange delusion ! If there were enemy at hand, 
would men subtle as those you fear suffer the master of the 
dwelling, and truly I may say it without vain-glory, one as 
likely as another to struggle stoutly for his own, to escape, 
when an ill-timed visit to the woods had delivered him 
unresisting into their hands ? Go, go, good Ruth ; thou 
may’st have seen a blackened log — perchance the frosts have 
left a fire-fly untouched, or it may be that some prowling 
bear has scented out the sweets of thy lately gathered 
hives.” 

Ruth again laid her hand firmly on the arm of her hus- 
band, who had withdrawn another bolt, and, looking him 
steadily in the face, she answered by saying solemnly, and 
with touching pathos — 

“ Thinkest thou, husband, that a mother’s eye could be 
deceived ?” 

It might have been that the allusion to the tender beings 
whose fate depended on his care, or that the deeply serious, 
though mild and gentle manner of his consort, produced 
some fresher impression on the mind of Content. Instead 
of undoing the fastenings of the postern as he had intended, 
he deliberately drew its bolts again and paused to think. 

“ If it produce no other benefit than to quiet thy fears, 
good Ruth,” he said, after a moment of reflection, “ a little 
caution will be well repaid. Stay you, then, here, where the 
hillock may be watched, while I go wake a couple of the 
people. With stout Eben Dudley and experienced Reuben 
Ring to back me, my father’s horse may surely be stabled.” 

Ruth contentfedly assumed a task that she was quite equal 
to perform with intelligence and zeal. “Hie thee to the 
laborers’ chambers, for I see a light still burning in the 


64 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

room of those you seek,” was the answer she gave to a pro- 
posal that at least quieted the intenseness of her fears for 
him in whose behalf they had so lately been excited nearly 
to agony. 

“ It shall be quickly done ; nay, stand not thus openly 
between the beams, wife. Thou mayest place thyself here 
at the doublings of the wood, beneath the loop, where harm 
would scarcely reach thee, though shot from artillery were 
to crush the timber.” 

With this admonition to be wary of a danger that he had 
so recently affected to despise. Content departed on his 
errand. The two laborers he had mentioned by name, were 
youths of mould and strength, and they were well inured to 
toil, no less than to the particular privations and dangers of 
a border life. Like most men of their years and condition, 
they were practised too in the wiles of Indian cunning; and 
though the Province of Connecticut, compared to other set- 
tlements, had suffered hut little in this species of murderous 
warfare, they both had martial feats and perilous experiences 
of their own to recount during the light labors of the long 
winter evenings. 

Content crossed the court with a quick step ; for, not- 
withstanding his steady unbelief, the image of his gentle 
wife posted on her outer watch hurried his movements. The 
rap he gave at the' door on reaching the apartment of those 
he sought, was loud as it was sudden. 

“Who calls?” demanded a deep-toned and firm voice 
from within, at the first blow of the knuckles on the plank. 

“ Quit thy beds quickly, and come forth with the arms 
appointed for a sally.” 

“ That is soon done,” answered a stout woodsman, throw- 
ing open the door and standing before Content in the gar- 
ments he had worn throughout the day. “We were just 
dreaming that the night was not to pass without a summons 
to the loops.” 


THE WEPT OF W I S II - T 0 N - W I S II . 


65 


“ Hast seen aught ?” 

“ Our eyes were not shut more than those of others ; we 
saw him enter that no man hath seen depart; 

“ Come, fellow — Whittal Ring would scarce give Aviser 
speech than this cunning reply of thine. My wife is at the 
postern, and it is fit we go to relieve her watch. Thou wilt 
not forget the horns of powder, since it would not tell to our 
credit, were there service for the pieces, and we lacking in 
wherewithal to give them a second discharge.” 

The hirelings obeyed, and as little time was necessary to 
arm those who never slept without weapons and ammunition 
within reach of their^ hands. Content was speedily folloAved 
by his dependants. Ruth Avas found at her post ; but Avhen 
urged by her husband to declare what had passed in his 
absence, she Avas compelled to admit that, though the moon 
had come forth brighter and clearer from behind the clouds, 
she had seen nothing to add to her alarm. 

“We Avill then lead 'the beast to his stall, and close bur 
duty by setting a single watch for the rest of the night,” 
said the husband. “ Reuben shall keep the postern, while 
Eben and I Avill have a care for my father’s nag, not forget- 
ting the carcass for the husking-feast. Dost hear, deaf 
Dudley ? Cast the mutton upon the crupper of the beast 
and folloAv to the stables.” 

“ Here has been no common workman at my office,” said 
the blunt Eben, who, though an ordinary farm-laborer, 
according to an usage still very generally prevalent in the 
country, was also skilful in the craft of the butcher. “ I 
have brought many a Avether to his end, but this is the first 
sheep, Avithin all my experience, that hath kept the fleece 
Avhile a portion of the body has been in the pot ! Lie there, 
poor Straight-Horns, if quiet thou canst be after such strange 
butchery. Reuben, I paid thee, as the sun rose, a Spanish 
piece of silver for the trifle of debt that lay betAveen us, in 
behalf of the good turn thou didst the shoes, Avhich were 


66 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

# 

none the better for the last hunt in the hills. Hast ever that 
pistareen about thee ?” 

This question, which was put in a lowered tone, and only 
to the ear of the party concerned, was answered in the 
affirmative. 

“ Give it me, Jad ; in the morning thou shalt be paid with 
usurer’s interest.” 

Another summons from Content, who had now led the 
nag loaded with the carcass of the sheep without the postern, 
cut short the secret conference. Eben Dudley, having 
received the coin, hastened to follow. But the distance to 
the out-buildings was sufficient to enable him to effect his 
mysterious purpose without discovery. Whilst Content 
endeavored to calm the apprehensions of his wife, who still 
persisted in sharing his danger, by such reasons as he could 
on the instant command, the credulous Dudley placed the 
thin piece of silver between his teeth, and, with a pressure 
that denoted the prodigious force of his jaws, caused it to 
assume a beaten and rounded shape. He then slily dropped 
the battered coin into the muzzle of his gun, taking care to 
secure its presence until he himself should send it on its dis- 
enchanting message, by a wad torn from the lining of part 
of his vestments. Supported by this redoubtable auxiliary, 
the superstitious but still courageous borderer followed his 
companion, whistling a low air that equally denoted his 
indifference to danger of an ordinary nature, and his sensi- 
bility to impressions of a less earthly character. 

They who dwell in the older districts of America, where 
art and labor have united for generations to clear the earth 
of its inequalities, and to remove the vestiges of a state of 
nature, can form but little idea of the thousand objects that 
may exist in a clearing, to startle the imagination of one 
who has admitted alarm, when seen in the doubtful light of 
even a cloudless moon. Still less can they who have never 
quitted the old world, and who, having only seen, can only 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


67 


imagine fields smooth as the surface of tranquil water, picture 
the effect produced by those lingering remnants, which may 
be likened to so many mouldering monuments of the fallen 
forest scattered at such an hour over a broad surface of 
open land. Accustomed as they were to the sight. Content 
and his partner, excited by their fears, fancied each dark 
and distant stump a savage, and they passed no angle in the 
high and heavy fences without throwing a jealous glance 
to see that some enemy did not lie stretched within its 
shadow’s. 

Still no new motive for apprehension arose during the 
brief period that the two adventurers were employed in 
administering to the comfort of the Puritan’s steed. The 
task was ended, the carcass of the slaughtered Straight- 
Horns had been secured, and Ruth was already urging her 
husband to return, when their attention was drawn to the 
attitude and mien of their companion. 

“ The man hath departed as he came,” said Eben Dudley, 
who stood shaking his head in open doubt before an empty 
stall ; “ here is no beast, though with these eyes did I see 
the half-wit bring hither a well-filled measure of speckled 
oats to feed the nag. He who favored us with his presence 
at the supper and the thanksgiving, hath tired of his com- 
pany before the hour of rest had come.” 

“ The horse is truly wanting,” said Content ; “ the man 
must needs be in exceeding haste, to have ridden into the 
forest as the night grew deepest, and when the longest 
summer day would scarce bring a better hack than that he 
rode to another Christian dwelling. There is reason for this 
industry, but it is enough that it concerns us not. We will 
now seek our rest, in the certainty that One watcheth our 
slumbers whose vigilance can never fail.” 

Though man could not trust himself to sleep in that 
country without the security of bars and bolts, we have 
already had occasion to say that property was guarded with 


68 


T HE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H. 


blit little care. The stable-door was merely closed by a 
wooden latch, and the party returned from this short sortie, 
with steps that were a little quickened by a sense of an 
uneasiness that beset them in forms suited to their several 
characters. But shelter was at hand, and it was speedily 
regained. 

“ Thou hast seen nothing ?” said Content to Reuben 
Ring, who had been chosen for his quick eye, and a sagacity 
that was as remarkable as was his brother’s impotency ; 
“ thou hast seen nothing at thy watch ?” 

“ Naught unusual ; and yet I like not yonder billet of 
wood, near to the fence against the knoll. If it were not so- 
plainly a half-burnt log, one might fancy there is life in it. 
But when fancy is at work, the sight is keen. Once or 
twice I have thought it seemed to be rolling towards the 
brook ; I am not, even now, certain that when first seen it 
did not lie eight or ten feet higher against the bank.” 

“ It may be a living thing !” 

“ On the faith of a woodman’s eye, it well may be,” said 
Eben Dudley ; “ but should it be haunted by a legion of 
wicked spirits, one may bring it to quiet from the loop at 
the nearest corner. Stand aside, Madame Ileathcote,” for 
the character and wealth of the proprietors of the valley 
gave Ruth a claim to this term of respect among the labor- 
ers ; “ let me thrust the piece through the — stop, there is 
an especial charm in the gun, which it might be sinful 
to waste on such a creature. It may be no more than some 
sweet-toothed bear. I will answer for the charge at my 
own cost, if thou wilt lend me thy musket, Reuben Ring.” . 

“ It shall not be,” said his master ; “ one known to my 
kither hath this night entered our dwelling and fed at our 
board ; if he hath departed in a way but little wont among 
those of this Colony, yet hath he done no great wrong. I 
will go nigh, and examine with less risk of error.” 

There was, in this proposal, too much of that spirit of 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


69 


right-doing which governed all of those simple regions, to 
meet serious opposition. Content, supported by Eben Dud- 
ley, again quitted the postern, and proceeded directly, 
though still not without sufficient caution, towards the 
point where the suspicious object lay. A bend in the fence 
had first brought it into view, for previously to reaching 
that point, its apparent direction might for some distance 
have been taken under shelter of the shadows of the rails, 
which, at the immediate spot where it was seen, were 
turned suddenly in a line with the eyes of the spectators. 
It seemed as if the movements of those who approached 
were watched ; for the instant they left the defences, the 
dark object was assuredly motionless ; even the keen eye of 
Reuben Ring beginning to doubt whether some deception 
of vision had not led him, after all, to mistake a billet of 
wood for a creature of life. 

But Content and his companion were not induced to 
change their determination. Even when within fifty feet of 
the object, though the moon fell full and brightly upon the 
surface, its character baffled conjecture. One affirmed it 
was the end of a charred log, many of which still lay scat- 
tered about the fields, and the other believed it to be some 
cringing animal of the woods. Twice Content raised his 
piece to fire, and as often did he let it fall, in reluctance to 
do injury to even a quadruped of whose character he was 
ignorant. It is more than probable that his less considerate 
and but half obedient companion would have decided the 
question soon after leaving the postern, had not the peculiar 
contents of his musket rendered him delicate of its uses. 

“ Look to thy weapons,” said the former, loosening his 
own hunting-knife in its sheath. “ We will draw near and 
make certainty of what is doubtful.” 

They did so, and the gun of Dudley was thrust rudely 
into the side of the object of their distrust, before it again 
betrayed life or motion. Then, indeed, as if further dis- 


70 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

guise was useless, an Indian lad of some fifteen years rose 
deliberately to bis feet, and stood before them in the sullen 
dignity of a captured warrior. Content hastily seized the 
stripling by an arm, and followed by Eben, who occasion- 
ally quickened the footsteps of the prisoner by an impetus 
obtained from the breech of his own musket, they hurriedly 
returned within the defences. 

“ My life against that of Straight-Horns, which is now of 
no great value,” said Dudley, as he pushed the last bolt of 
the fastenings into its socket, “ we hear no more of this red- 
skin’s companions to-night. I never knew an Indian raise 
his whoop when a scout had fallen into the hands of the 
enemy.” 

“ This may be true,” returned the other, “ and yet must 
a sleeping household be guarded. We may be brought to 
rely on the overlooking favor of Providence, working 
with the means of our own manhood, ere the sun shall 
arise.” 

Content was a man of few words, but one of exceeding 
steadiness and resolution in moments of need. He was per- 
fectly aware that an Indian youth, like him he had cap- 
tured, would not have been found in that place, and under 
the circumstances in which he. was actually taken, without 
a design of sufficient magnitude to justify the hazard. The 
tender age of the stripling, too, forbade the belief that he 
was unaccompanied. But he silently agreed with his labor- 
ing man, that the capture would probably cause the attack, 
if any such were meditated, to be deferred. He therefore 
instructed his wife to withdraw into her chamber, while he 
took measures to defend the dwelling in the last. emergency. 
Without giving any unnecessary alarm, a measure that 
would have produced less effect on an enemy without, than 
the imposing stillness which now reigned within the de- 
fences, he ordered two or three more of the stoutest of his 
dependants to be summoned to the palisadoes. • A keen 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

scrutiny was made into the state of all the different outlets 
of the place; muskets were carefully examined; charges 
were given to be watchful, and regular sentinels were sta- 
tioned within the shadows of the buildings, at points where, 
unseen themselves, they could look out in safety upon the 
fields. 

Content then took his captive, with whom he had made 
no attempt to exchange a syllable, and led him to the block- 
house. ^The door which communicated with the basement 
of this building was always open, in readiness for refuge in 
the event of any sudden alarm. He entered ; caused the 
lad to mount by a ladder to the floor above, and then with- 
drawing the means of retreat, he turned the key without, in 
perfect confidence that his prisoner was secure. 

Notwithstanding all this care, morning had nearly dawned 
before the prudent father and husband sought his pillow. 
His steadiness, however, had prevented the apprehensions, 
which kept his own eyes and those of his gentle partner so 
long open, from extending beyond the few whose services 
were, in such an emergency, deemed indispensable to safety. 
Towards the last watches of the night, only, did the images 
of the scenes through which they had just passed, become 
dim and confiised, and then both husband and wife slept 
soundly and happily without disturbance. 


72 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W 1 8 H . 


CHAPTER V. ' 

“ Are you so brave ? I’ll have you talked with anon.” 

Coeiolanus. 

The axe and the brand had been early and effectually 
used, immediately around the dwelling of the Heathcotes. 
A double object had been gained by removing most of the 
vestiges of the forest from the vicinity of the buildings ; 
the necessary improvements were executed with greater 
facility, and, a consideration of no small importance, the 
cover which the American savage is known to seek in his 
attacks was thrown to a distance that greatly diminished 
the danger of a surprise. 

Favored by the advantage which had been obtained by 
this foresight, and by the brilliancy of a night that soon 
emulated the brightness of day, the duty of Eben Dudley 
and of his associate on the watch was rendered easy of ac- 
complishment. Indeed, so secure did they become towards 
morning, chiefly on account of the capture of the Indian 
lad, that more than once, eyes that should have been dif- 
ferently employ ed^yielded to the drowsiness of the hour 
and to habit, or were only opened at intervals that left their 
owners in some doubt as to the passage of the intermediate 
time. But no sooner did the signs of day approach, than, 
agreeably to th^ir. instructions, the watchers sought their 
beds, and for an hour or two they slept soundly, and with- 
out fear. 

When his father had closed the prayers of the morning, 
Content, in the micM of the assembled family, commu- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 73 

nicated as many of the incidents of the past night as in his 
judgment seemed necessary. His discretion limited the 
narrative to the capture of the native youth, and to the 
manner in which he had ordered the watch for the secu- 
rity of the family. On the subject of his own excursion to the 
forest, and all connected therewith, he was guardedly silent. 

It is unnecessary to relate the manner in which this 
startling information was received. The cold and reserved 
brow of the Puritan became still more thoughtful ; the 
young men looked grave, but resolute ; the maidens of the 
household grew pale, shuddered, and whispered hurriedly 
together ; while the little Ruth and a female child of nearly 
her own age, named Martha, clung close to the side of the 
mistress of the family, who, having nothing new to learn, 
had taught herself to assume the appearance of a resolution 
she was far from feeling. 

The first visitation which befell the listeners, after their 
eager ears had drunk in the intelligence Content so briefly 
imparted, was a renewal of the spiritual strivings of his 
father in the* form of prayer. A particular petition was put 
up in quest of light on their future proceedings, for mercy 
on all men, for a better mind to those who wandered 
through the wilderness seeking victims of their wrath, for the 
gifts of grace on the heathen, and finally for victory over all 
their carnal enemies, let them come whence or in what as- 
pect they might. 

Fortified by these additional exercise^,., old Mark next 
made himself the master of all the signs and evidences of 
the approach of danger, by a more rigid and minute inquiry 
into the visible circumstances of the arrest of the young 
savage. Content received a merited and grateful reward 
for his prudence, in the approbation of one whom he still 
continued to revere with a mental dependence little less than 
that with which he had leaned on his father’s wisdom in the 
days of his childhood. > 


4 


.74 THE WEPT OF WISH.- TON-WISH. 

“ Thou hast done well and wisely,” said his father ; “ but 
more remains to be performed by thy wisdom and fortitude. 
We have had tidings that the heathen near the Provi- 
dence Plantations are unquiet, and that they are lending 
their minds to wicked counsellors. We are not to sleep iu 
too much security, because a forest journey of a few days 
lies between their villages and our own clearing. Bring 
forth the captive ; I will question him on the matter of this 
visit.” 

Until now, so much did the fears of all turn towards the ene- 
mies who were believed to be liirkingnear, that little thought 
had been bestowed on the prisoner in the block-house. 
Content, who well knew the invincible resolution, no less 
than the art of an Indian, had forborne to question him 
when taken ; for he believed the time to be better suited to 
vigilant acttion, than to interrogatories that the character 
of the boy was likely to render perfectly useless. He now 
proceeded, however, with an interest that began to quicken 
as circumstances rendered its indulgence less unsuitable, to 
seek his captive, in order to bring him before the searching 
ordeal of his father’s authority’!^ 

The key of the lower ;d6or-pf the block-house hung 
where it had been deposited ; the ladder was replaced, and 
Content mounted quietly to the apartment where he had 
placed his captive. The room, was the lowest of three that 
the building contained, all being above that which might be 
termed its basement. The latter, having no aperture but its 
door, was a dark, hexagonal space, partly filled with such v 
articles as might be needed in the event of an alarm, and 
which, at the same time, were frequently. required for the 
purposes of domestic use. In the centre of the area was a 
deep well, so fitted and protected by a wall of stone, as to 
admit of water being drawn into the rooms above. The 
door itself was of massive hewn timber. The squared logs 
of the upper stories projected a little beyond the stone- 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 76 

work of the basement, the second tier of the timbers con- 
taining a few loops, out of which missiles might be dischais 
ged downwards, on any assailants that approached nearer 
than should be deemed safe for the security of the basement. 
As has been stated, the two principal stories were perforated, 
with long narrow slits through the timber, which answered 
the double purposes of windows and loop-holes. Though the 
apartments were so evidently arranged for defence, the 
plain domestic furniture they contained was suited ‘to the 
wants of the family, should they be driven to the building 
for refuge. There was also an apartment in the roof, or 
attic, as already mentioned ; but it scarcely entered into the 
more important uses of the block-house. Still the advan- 
tage which it received from its elevation was not overlooked. 
A small cannon, of a kind once known and much used under 
the name of grasshoppers, had been raised to the place, and 
time had been when it was rightly considered as of the last 
importance to the safety of the inmates of the dwelling. 
For some years its muzzle had been seen by all the straggling 
aborigines who visited the valley, frowning through one of 
these openings which were now converted into glazed 
windows ; and there is reason to think, that the reputation 
which the little piece of ordnance thus silently obtained, 
had a powerhil agency in so long preserving unmolested the 
peace of the valley. 

The word unmolested is perhaps too strong. More than 
one alarm had in fact occurred, though no positive acts of 
violence had ever been committed within the limits which 
the Puritan claimed as his own. On only one occasion, 
however, did matters proceed so far that the veteran had 
been induced to take his post in this warlike attic ; where, 
there is little doubt, had occasion further offered for his 
services, he would have made a suitable display of his 
knowledge in the science of gunnery. But ,the simple 
history of the Wish-Ton-Wish had furnished another evi- 


76 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

dence of a political truth, which cannot be too often pre- 
sented to the attention of our countrymen ; we mean, that 
the best preservative of peace is preparation for war. In 
the case before Tis, the hostile attitude assumed by old Mark 
and his dependants had effected all that was desirable, with- 
out proceeding to the extremity of shedding blood. Such 
peaceful triumphs were far more in accordance with the 
present principles of the Puritan, than they would have been 
with the reckless temper which had governed his youth. In 
the quaint and fanatical humor of the times, he had held a 
family thanksgiving around the instrument of their security, 
and from that moment the room itself became a favorite 
resorting-place for the old soldier. Thither he often mount- 
ed, even in the hours of deep night, to indulge in those 
secret spiritual exercises which formed the chiefest solace, 
and seemingly, indeed, the great employment of his life. In 
consequence of this habit, the attic of the block-house came 
in time to be considered sacred to the uses of the master of 
the valley. The care and thought of Content had gradu- 
ally supplied it with many conveniences that might contri- 
bute to the personal comfort of his father, while the spirit 
was engaged in these mental conflicts. At length, the old 
man was known to use the mattress, that among other things 
it now contained, and to pass the time between the setting 
and the rising of the sun in its solitude. The aperture 
originally cut for the exhibition of the grasshopper had been 
glazed ; and no article of comfort, which was once caused to 
mount the difficult ladder that led to the chamber, was ever 
seen to descend. 

There was something in the austere sanctity of old Mark 
Ileathcote, that was favorable to the practices of an anchor- 
ite. The youths of the dwelling regarded his unbending 
brow, and the undisturbed gravity of the eye it shadowed, 
with a respect akin to awe. Had the genuine benevolence 
of his character been less tried, or had he mingled in active 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


11 


life at a later period, it might readily have been his fate to 
have shared in the persecution which his countrymen 
heaped on those who were believed to deal with influences 
it is thought impious to exercise. Under actual circumstan- 
ces, however, the sentiment went no farther than a deep and 
univevsal reverence, that left its object, and the neglected 
little piece of artillery, to the quiet possession of an apart- 
ment, to invade which would have been deemed an act bor- 
dering on sacrilege. 

The business of Content, on the occasion which caused 
his present visit to the edifice whose history and description 
we have thought it expedient thus to give at some length, 
led him no farther than to the lowest of its more military 
apartments. On raising the trap, for the first time a feeling 
of doubt came over him, as to the propriety of having left 
the boy so long unsolaced by words of kindness, or by deed 
of charity. It was appeased by observing that his concern 
was awakened in behalf of one whose spirit was quite equal 
to sustain greater trials. 

The young Indian stood before one of the loops, looking 
out upon that distant forest in which he had so lately 
roamed at liberty, with a gaze too riveted to turn aside even 
at the interruption occasioned by the presence of his captor. 

“ Come from thy prison, child,” said Content, in the tones 
of mildness ; “ whatever may have been thy motive in lurk- 
ing around this dwelling, thou art hitman, and must know 
human wants ; come forth and receive food ; none hero will 
hann tlieei” 

The language of commiseration is universal. Tliough the 
words of the speaker were evidently unintelligible to him 
for whoso oars they were intended, their import was con- 
veyed in the kindness of the accents. The eyes of the boy 
turned slowly from the view of the woods, and he looked his 
captor long and steadily in the face. Content now indeed dis- 
covered that he had spoken in a language that was unknown 


18 ' THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

to his captive, and he endeavored by gestures of kindness 
to invite the lad to follow him. lie was silently and quietly 
obeyed. On reaching the court, however, the prudence of 
a border proprietor in some degree overcame his feelings of 
compassion. 

“ Bring hither yon tether,” he said to Whittal Ring, who 
at the moment was passing towards the stables; “here is 
one wild a3 the most untamed of thy colts. . Man is of our 
nature and of our spirit, let him bo of what color it may 
have pleased Providence to stamp his features ; but he who 
would have a young savage in his keeping on the morrow, 
must look sharply to his limbs to-day.” 

The lad submitted quietly until a turn of the rope was 
passed around one of his arms; but when Content was fain 
to complete the work by bringing the other limb into the 
same state of subjection, the boy glided from his grasp, and 
cast the fetters from him in disdain. This act of decided 
resistance was, however, followed by no effort to escape. 
The moment his person was released from a confinement, 
which he probably considered as implying distrust of his 
ability to endure pain with the fortitude of a warrior, the 
lad turned quietly and proudly to his captor, and, with an 
eye in which scorn and haughtiness were alike glowing, 
seemed to defy the fulness of his anger. 

“ Be it so,” resumed the equal-minded Content, “ if thou 
likest not the bonds .which, notwithstanding the pride of 
man, are often healthful to the body, keep then the use of 
thy limbs, and see that they do no mischief. Whittal, look 
thou to the postern, and remember it is forbidden to go 
afield until m3" father , hath had this heathen under examina- 
tion. The cub is seldom found far from the cunning of the 
aged bear.” • 

lie then made a sign to the boy to follow, and proceeded 
to the apartment where his father, surrounded by* most of 
the family, awaited their coming. TJncom promising do- 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 


79 


mestic discipline was one of the striking characteristics of 
the sway of the Puritans. That austerity of manner which 
was thought to mark a sense of a fallen and probationary 
state was early taught ; for, among a people who deemed 
all mirth a sinful levity, the practice of self-command would 
readily come to be esteemed the basis of virtue. But what- 
ever might have been the peculiar merit of Mark Hcathcote 
and his household in this particular, it was likely to be ex- 
ceeded by the exhibition of the same quality in the youth 
who had so strangely become their captive. 

We have already said that this child of the woods might 
have seen some fifteen years. Though he had shot up- 
wards like a vigorous and thrifty plant, and with the free- 
dom of a thriving sapling in his native forests, rearing its 
branches towards the light, his stature had not yet reached 
that of man. In height, form, and attitudes, he was a 
model of active, natural, and graceful boyhood. But while 
his limbs were so fair in their proportions, they were scarcely 
muscular ; still every movement exhibited a freedom and 
ease which announced the grace of childhood, without the 
smallest evidence of that restraint which creeps into our air * 
as the factitious feelings of later life begin -to assert their 
influence. The smooth, rounded trunk of the mountain ash 
is not more upright and free from blemish than was the 
figure of the boy, who moved into the curious circle that 
opened for his entrance and closed against his retreat, with 
the steadiness of one who came to bestow instead of appear- 
ing to receive judgment. 

“I will question him,” said old Mark Heathcote, at- 
tentively regarding the keen and settled eye that met his 
long, stern gaze, as steadily as a less intelligent creature of 
the woods would return the look of man. “ I will question 
him ; and perchance fear will wringfrom his lips a confession of 
the evil that he and his have meditated against me and mine.” 

“ I think he is ignorant of our forms of speech,” returned 


80 , THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

Content ; “ for tlie words of neither kindness nor anger 
will force him to a change of feature.” 

“ It is then meet that we commence by asking Him who 
hath the secret to open all hearts to be our assistant.” The 
Puritan then raised his voice in a short and exceedingly par- 
ticular petition, in which he implored the Ruler of the Uni- 
verse to interpret his meaning in the forthcoming examina- 
tion, in a manner that, had his request been granted, would 
have savored not a little of the miraculous. With this pre- 
paration he proceeded directly to his task. But neither 
questions, signs, nor prayer, produced the slightest visible 
effect. The boy gazed at the rigid and austere countenance 
of his interrogator, while the words were issuing from his 
lips ; but the instant they ceased, his searching and quick 
eye rolled over the different curious faces by which he was 
hemmed in, as if he trusted more to the sense of sight than 
that of hearing, for the information he naturally sought con- 
cerning his future lot. It was found impossible to obtain 
from him gesture or sound that should betray either the pur- 
port of his questionable visit, his own personal appellation, 
or that of his tribe. 

“ I have been among the red skins of the Providence 
Plantations,” Eben Dudley at length ventured to observe ; 
“ and their language, though but a crooked and irrational 
jargon, is not unknown to me. With the leave of all pre- 
sent,” he continued, regarding the Puritan in a manner to 
betray that this general term meant him alone, “ with the 
leave of all present, I will put it to the younker in such a 
fashion that he will be glad to answer.” 

Receiving a look of assent the borderer uttered certain 
uncouth and guttural sounds, which, notwithstanding they 
entirely failed of their effect, he stoutly maintained were the 
ordinary terms of salutation among the people to whom the 
prisoner was supposed to belong. 

“ I know him to be a Narraganset,” continued Eben, red- 


THE WEPT OF W I S 11 - T O N - W I S H 81 

dening with vexation at his defeat, and throwing a glance of 
no peculiar amity at the youth who had so palpably refuted 
his claim to skill in the Indian tongues : “ you see he 
hath the shells of the sea-side worked into the bordering of 
his moccasins ; and besides this sign, which is certain as 
that night hath its stars, he beareth the look of a chief that 
was slain by the Pequods, at the wish of us Christians, after 
an affair in which, whether it was well done or ill done, I 
did some part of the work myself.” 

“ And how call you that chief ? ” demanded Mark. 

“ Why, he had various names, according to the business 
he was on. To some he was known as the Leaping Panther, 
for he was a man of an extraordinary jump ; and others 
again used to style him Pepperage, since there was a saying 
that neither bullet nor sword could enter his body : though 
that was a mistake, as his death hath fully proven. But his 
real name, according tp the uses and sounds of his own 
people, was My Anthony Mow.” 

“ My Anthony Mow !” 

“ Yes ; My, meaning that he was their chief; Anthony, 
being the given name ; and Mow, that of the breed of which 
he came ;” rejoined Eben with confidence, satisfied that he 
had finally produced a sufficiently sonorous appellative and 
a perfectly lucid etymology. But criticism- was diverted 
from its aim by the action of the prisoner, as these equivocal 
sounds struck his ear. Kuth recoiled, and clasped her little 
namesake closer to her side, when she saw the dazzling 
brightness of his glowing eyes, and the sudden and expres- 
sive dilation of his nostrils. For a moment his lips were 
compressed with more than the usual force of Indian 
gravity, and then they slightly severed. A low, soft, 
and, as even the startled matron was obliged to confess, a 
plaintive sound issued from between them, repeating mourn- 
fully— 

“ Miantonimoh !” 


4^ 


82 THE WEPT OP W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

The word was uttered with a distinct, but deeply guttural 
enunciation. 

“ The child mourneth for its parent,” exclaimea the sensi- 
tive mother. “ Tlie hand that slew the warrior may have 
done an evil deed.” 

“ I see the evident and foreordermg will of a wise Provi- 
dence in this,” said Mark Heathcote with solemnity. “ The 
youth hath been deprived of one who might have enticed 
him still deeper into the bonds of the heathen, and hither 
hath he been led in order to be placed upon the straight and 
narrow path. lie shall become a dweller among mine, and 
we will strive against the evil of liis mind until instruction 
shall prevail. Let him be fed and nurtured equally with the 
things of life and the things of the world ; for who knoweth 
that which is designed in his behalf?” 

If there were more of faith than of rational conclusion in 
this opinion of the old Puritan, thej’e was no external e\d- 
dence to contradict it. While the examination of the boy 
was going on in the dwelling, a keen scrutiny had taken 
place in the out-buildings, and in the adjacent fields. Those 
engaged in this duty soon returned, to say that not the 
smallest trace of an ambush was visible about the place ; 
and as the captive himself had no weapons of hostility, even 
Ruth began to hope that the mysterious conceptions of her 
father on the subject were not entirely delusive. The 
captive was now fed, and old Mark was on the point 
of making a proper beginning in the task he had so gladly 
assumed, by an up-oftbring of thanks, when Whittal Ring 
broke rudely into the room, and disturbed the solemnity 
of his preparation, by a sudden and boisterous out- 
cry. 

“ Away with scythe and sickle,” shouted the witling ; 
“ it’s many a day since the fields of Wish-Ton-Wish have 
been trodden down by horsemen in buff* jerkins, or am- 
bushed by creeping Wampanaogs.” 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


83 


“ There is danger at hand 1” exclaimed the sensitive Ruth. 
“ Husband, the warning was timely/’ . 

“ Here are truly some riding from the forest, and drawing 
nigh to the dwelling ; but as they arc seemingly men of our 
kind and faith, we have need rather of rejoicing than terror. 
They bear the air of messengers from the River.” 

Mark Heathcote listened with surprise, and perhaps with 
a momentary uneasiness ; but all emotion passed away on 
the instant, for one so disciplined in mind rarely permitted 
any outward exposure of his secret thoughts. The Puritan 
calmly issued an order to replace the prisoner in the block- 
house, assigning the upper of the two principal floors for his 
keeping ; and then he prepared himself to receive guests 
that were little wont to disturb the quiet of his secluded val- 
ley. He was still in the act of giving forth the necessary man- 
dates, when the tramp of horses was heard in the court, and 
he was summoned to the door to greet his unknown visitors. 

“ We have reached Wish-Ton- Wish, and the dwelling of 
Captain Mark Heathcote,” said one, who appeared, by his 
air and better attire, to be the principal of four that com- 
posed the party. 

“ By the favor of Providence, I call myself the unworthy 
owner of this place of refuge.” 

“ Then a subject so loyal, and a man who hath so long 
proved hindself faithful in the wilderness, will not turn from 
his door the asients of his anointed Master.” 

“ There is One greater than any of earth who hath taught 
us to leave the latch free. I pray you to alight, and to par- 
take of that we can offer.” 

With this courteous but quaint explanation the horsemen 
dismounted; and, giving their steeds into the keeping of 
the laborers of the farm, they entered the dwelling. 

While the maidens of Ruth were preparing a repast suited 
to the hour and to thg quality of the- guests, Mark and his 
son had abundant opportunity to examine the appearance 


84 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 

of the strangers. They were men who seemed to wear 
visages peculiarly adapted to the characters of their enter- 
tainers, being in truth so singularly demure and grave in 
aspect, as to excite some suspicion of their being newly 
converted zealots to the mortifying customs of the Colony. 
Notwithstanding their extraordinary gravity, and contrary 
to the usages of those regions,- too, they bdre about their 
persons certain evidence of being used to the fashions of the 
other hemisphere. The pistols attached to their saddle- 
bows, and other accoutrements of a warlike aspect, would 
perhaps have attracted no observation, had they not been 
accompanied by a fashion in the doublet, the hat, and the 
boot, that denoted a greater intercourse with the mother 
country than' was usual among the less sophisticated natives 
of those regions. None traversed the forests without the 
means of defence ; but, on the other hand, few wore the 
hostile implements with so much of a worldly air, or with 
so many minor particularities of some recent caprice in 
fashion. As they had, however, announced themselves to 
be officers of the King, they, who of necessity must be chiefly 
concerned in the object of their visit, patiently awaited the 
pleasure of the strangers, to learn why duty had called them 
so far from all the more ordinary haunts of men : for, like 
the native owners of the soil, the self-restrained religionists 
appeared to reckon an indiscreet haste in anything among 
the more unmanly weaknesses Nothing for the first half- 
hour of their visit escaped the guarded lips of men evi- 
dently well skilled in their present duty, which might lead 
to a clue of its purport The morning meal passed almost 
without discourse, and one of the party had arisen with the 
professed object of looking to their steeds, before he, who 
seemed the chief, led the conversation to a subject, that by 
its political bearing might, in some degree, be supposed to 
have a remote connexion with the principal object of his 
journey to that sequestered valley. 


THE WEPT OF WISH- TON- WISH. 


85 


“ Have the tidings of the gracious boon that hath lately 
flowed from the favor of the King, reached this distant set- 
tlement ?” ashed the principal personage, one that wore a 
far less military air than a younger companion, who, by his 
confident mien, appeared to be the second in authority. 

“ To what boon hath thy words import ?” demanded the 
Puritan, turning a glance of the eye at his son and daughter, 
together with the others in hearing, as if to admonish them 
to be prudent. 

“ I speak of the Royal Charter by which the people on 
the banks of the Connecticut, and they of the Colony of 
New Haven, are henceforth permitted to unite in govern- 
ment ; granting them liberty of conscience, and great free- 
dom of self-control.” 

“ Such a gift were worthy of a King ! Hath Charles 
done this ?” 

“That hath he, and much more that is fitting in a kind 
and royal mind. The realm is finally freed from the abuses 
of usurpers, and power now resteth in the hands of a race 
long set apart for its privileges.” 

“ It is to be wished that practice shall render them expert 
and sage in its uses,” rejoined Mark, somewhat drily. 

“ It is a merry Prince ! and one but little given to the 
study and exercises of his martyred father ; but he hath 
great cunning in discourse, and few around his dread person 
have keener wit or more ready tongue.” 

Mark bowed his head in silence, seemingly little dis- 
posed to push the discussion of his earthly master’s qualities 
to a conclusion that might prove offensive to so loyal an 
admirer. One inclining to suspicion would have seen, or 
thought he saw, certain equivocal glances from the stranger, 
while he was thus lauding the vivacious qualities of the 
restored monarch, which should denote a desire to detect 
how far the eulogiums might be grateful to his host. He 
acquiesced, however, in the wishes of the Puritan, though 


86 


THE WEPT OF W I S H * T 0 N “ W I S H . 


whether understandingly, or without design, it would have 
been difficult to say, and submitted to change the discourse. 

“ It is likely, by thy presence, that tidings have reached 
the Colonies from home,” said Content, who understood, by 
the severe and reserved expression of his father’s features, 
that it was a fitting time for him to interpose. 

“ There is one arrived in the Bay, within the month, by 
means of a King’s frigate ; but no trader hath yet passed 
between the countries, except the ship which maketh the 
annual voyage from Bristol to Boston.” 

“ And he who hath arrived — doth he come in authority ?” 
demanded Mark ; “ or is he merely another servant of the 
Lord, seeking to rear his tabernacle in the wilderness ?” 

“Thou shalt know the nature of his errand,” returned 
the stranger, casting a glance of malicious intelligence ob- 
liquely towards his companions, at the same time that he 
arose and placed in the hand of his host a commission 
which evidently bore the Seal of State. “ It is expected 
that all aid will be given to one bearing this w^arranty, by a 
subject of a loyalty so approved as that of Captain Mark 
Heathcote.” 



THE WEPT OP W I S H - T 0 N - W I S II . 


87 


CHAPTER VI. 

• 

“ But, by your leave, 

I am an officer of state, and come 
To speak witb- 

Gobiolantts. 

Notwithstanding the sharp look which the Messenger 
of the Crown deliberately and now openly fastened on the 
master of Wish-Ton-Wish, while the latter was rcadingr the 
instrument that was placed before his eyes, there was no 
evidence of uneasiness to be detected in the unmoved fea- 
tures of the latter. Mark Heathcote had too long schooled 
his passions to suffer an unseemly manifestation of surprise 
to escape him ; and he was by nature a man of far too much 
nerve to betray alarm at any trifling exhibition of danger. 
Returning the parchment to the other, he said with un- 
moved calmness to his son : 

“We must open wide the doors of Wish-Ton- Wish. 
Here is one charged with authority to look into the secrel^ 
of all \he dwellings of the colony.” Then, turning with 
dignity to the agent of the Crown, he added, “ Thou hast 
better commence thy duty in season, for we are many and 
occupy much space.” 

The face of the stranger flushed a little, it might have 
been with shame for the vocation in which he had come so 
far, or it might have been in resentment at so direct a hint 
that the sooner his disagreeable office should bo ended, the 
better it would please his host. Still, he betrayed no inten- 
tion of shrinking from its performance. On the contrary, 
discarding somewhat of that subdued manner which he had 


88 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH., 

probably thought it politic to assume, while sounding the 
opinions of one so rigid, he broke out rather suddenly in 
the exhibition of a humor somewhat better suited to the 
tastes of whom he served. 

“Come then,” he cried, winking at his companions, 
“ since doors are opened, it would speak ill of our breeding 
should we refuse to enter. Captain Heathcote has been a 
soldier, and he knows how to excuse a traveller’s freedom. 
Surely one who has tasted of the pleasures of the camp 
must weary at times of this sylvan life ?” 

“ The steadfast in faith weary not, though the road be 
long and the wayfaring grievous.” 

“Hum — ’tis pity that the journeying between merry 
England and these Colonies is not more brisk. I do not 
presume to instruct a gentleman who is my senior, and per- 
adventure my better ; but opportunity is everything in a 
man’s fortunes. It were charity to let you know, worthy sir, 
that opinions have changed at home : it is full a twelve- 
month since I have heard a line of the Psalms, or a verse 
of St. Paul quoted, in discourse ; at least by men w'ho are 
at all esteemed for their discretion.” 

“ This change in the fashion of speech may better suit 
thy earthly than thy heavenly master,” said Mark Heathcote, 
^fernly. 

“Well, well, that peace may exist between us, we will 
not bandy words about a text more or less, if we may 
escape the sermon,” rejoined the stranger, no longer affect- 
ing restraint, but laughing with sufficient freedom at his 
own conceit; a species of enjoyment in wffiich his com- 
panions mingled with great good-will, and without much 
deference to the humor of those under whose roof they 
found themselves. 

A small glowing spot appeared on the pale cheek of the 
Puritan, and disappeared again, like some transient decep- 
tion produced by the play of light. Even the meek eye of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TOX-WISH, 


89 


Content kindled at the insult; but, like his father, the 
practice of self-denial, and a never-slumbering consciousness 
of his own imperfections, smothered the momentary exhibi- 
tion of displeasure. 

“ If thou hast authority to look into the secret places of 
our habitations, do thy olRce,” he said, with a peculiarity of 
tone which served to remind the other, that though he bore 
the commission of the Stuart, he was in an extremity of his 
Empire, where even the authority of a King lost some of 
its value. 

Affecting to be, and possibly in reality conscious of his 
indiscretion, the stranger hastily disposed himself to the 
execution of his duty. 

“ It would be a great and a pain-saving movement,” he 
said, “were we to assemble the household in one apart- 
ment. The government at home would be glad to hear 
something of the quality of its lieges in this distant quarter. 
Thou hast doubtless a bell to summon the flock at stated 
periods.” 

“ Our people are yet near the dwelling,” returned Con- 
tent : “ if it be thy pleasure, none shall be absent from the 
search.” 

Gathering from the eye of the other that he was serious 
in this wish, the quiet Colonist proceeded to the gate, andj 
placing a shell to his mouth, blew one of those blasts th^ 
are so often heard in the forests summoning families to their 
homes, and which are alike used as the signals of peaceful 
recall, or of alarm. The sound soon brought all within 
hearing to the court, whither the Puritan and his unpleasant 
guests now repaired as to the spot best suited to the pur- 
poses of the latter. 

“ Hallam,” said the principal personage of the four 
visitors, addressing him who might once have been, if he 
were not still, some subaltern in the forces of the Crown, 
for he was attired in a manner that bespoke him but a half- 


90 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


disguised dragoon, “ I leave thee to entertain this goodly 
assemblage. Thou may’st pass the time in discoursing on 
the vanities of the world, of which I believe few are better 
qnalified to speak understandingly than thyself, or a few 
words of admonition to hold fast to the faith would come 
with fitting weight from thy lips. But look to it, that none 
of thy flock wander ; for here must every creature of them 
remain, stationary as the indiscreet partner of Lot, till I 
have cast an eye into all the cunning places of their abode. 
So set wit to work, and show thy breeding as an enter- 
tainer ” 

After this irreverent charge to his subordinate, the 
speaker signifled to Content and his father, that he and his 
remaining attendant would proceed to a more minute exa- 
mination of the premises. 

When Mark Heathcote saw that the man who had so 
rudely broken in upon the peaceful habits of his family was 
ready to proceed, he advanced steadily in his front, like one 
who boldly invited inquiry, and by a grave gesture desired 
him to follow. The stranger, perhaps as much from habit 
as from any settled design, first cast a free glance around 
at the bevy of fluttered maidens, leered even upon the 
modest and meek-eyed Ruth herself, and then took the 
^^ection indicated by him who had so unhesitatingly 
assumed the ofiice of a guide. 

The object of this examination still remained a secret 
between those who made it, and the Puritan, who had pro- 
bably found its motive in the written warranty which had 
been submitted to his inspection. That it proceeded from 
fitting authority, none might doubt; and that it was in 
some manner connected with the events that were known to 
have wrought so sudden and so great a change in the 
government of the mother country, all believed probable. 
Notwithstanding the seeming mystery of the procedure, the 
search was not the less rigid. Few habitations of any size 


THE W E I* T OF W I S H - T O N - 1 H . 


91 


or pretension were erected in those times, which did not 
contain certain secret places, whore valuables and even 
persons might be concealed, at need. The strangers dis- 
played great familiarity with the nature and ordinary posi- 
tions of these private recesses. Not a chest, a closet, nor even 
a drawer of size, escaped their vigilance ; nor was there a 
plank that sounded hollow, but the master of the valley was 
called on to explain the cause. In one or two instances, 
boards were wrested violently from their fastenings, and the 
cavities beneath were explored, with a wariness that increas- 
ed as the investigation proceeded without success. 

The strangers appeared irritated by their failure. An 
hour passed in the keenest scrutiny, and nothing had trans- 
pired which brought them any nearer to their object. That 
they had commenced the search with more than usually 
confident anticipations of a favorable result, might have 
been gathered from the boldness of tone assumed by their 
chief, and the pointed personal allusions in which, from 
time to time, he indulged, often too freely, and always at 
some expense to the loyalty of the Heathcotes. But 
when he had completed the circuit of the buildings, having 
entered all parts from their cellars to the garrets, his spleen 
became so strong as, in some degree, to get the better of a 
certain parade of discretion, which he had hitherto managed 
to maintain in the midst of all his levity. 

“ Hast seen nothing, Mr. llallam ?” he demanded of the 
individual left on watch, as they crossed the court in retir- 
ing from the last of the out-buildings ; “ or have those 
traces which led us to this distant settlement proved false ? 
Captain Ilcathcote, you have seen that we come not with- 
out sufficient warranty, and it is in my power to say we 
come not without sufficient ” 

Checking himself, as if about to utter more than was 
prudent, he suddenly cast an eye on the block-house, and 
demanded its uses. 


92 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“ It is, as thou seest, a building erected for the purposes 
of defence,” replied Mark ; “ one to which, in the event of 
an inroad of the savages, the family may fly for refuge.” 

“ Ah ! these citadels are not unknown to me. I hav^e 
met with others during my journey, but none so formidable 
or so military as this. It hath a soldier for its governor, 
and should hold out for a reasonable siege. Being a place 
of pretension we will look closer into its mystery.” 

He then signified an intention to close the search by an 
examination of this edifice. Content unhesitatingly threw 
open its door, and invited him to enter. 

“ On the word of one who, though now engaged in a 
more peaceful calling, has been a campaigner in his time, 
’twould be no child’s play to carry this tower without artil- 
lery. Had thy spies given notice of our approach, Captain 
Hcathcote, the entrance might have been more difficult 
than we now find it. We have a ladder here! Where 
the means of mounting are found there must be something 
to tempt one to ascend. I will taste your forest air from an 
upper room.” 

“ You will find the apartment above like this below, 
merely provided for the security of the unoffending dwell- 
ers of the habitations,” said Content ; while he quietly 
arranged the ladder before the trap, and then led the w^ay 
himself to the floor above. 

“ Here have we loops for the musketoons,” cried the 
stranger, looking about him, understandingly, “ and reason- 
able defences against shot. Thou hast not forgotten thy 
art. Captain Heathcote, and I consider myself fortunate in 
having entered thy fortress by surprise, or I should rather 
say, in amity, since the peace is not yet broken between us. 
But why have we so much of household gear in a place so 
evidently equipped for war?” 

“ Thou forgettest that women and children may be driven 
to this block for a residence,” replied Content. “ It would 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 93 

show little discretion to neglect matters that might be useful 
to their wants.’’ 

“ Is there trouble with the savages ?” demanded the . 
stranger, a little quickly ; “ the gossips of the Colony bade 
us fear nothinoj on that head.” 

“ One cannot say at what hour creatures trained in their 
wild natures may choose to rise. The dwellers on the 
borders therefore never neglect a fitting caution.” 

“ Hist !” interrupted the stranger ; “ I hear a footstep 
above. Hal the scent will prove true at last! Hilloa, 
Master Hillam !” he cried, from one of the loops ; “ let thy 
statues of salt dissolve, and come hither to the tower. 
Here is work for a regiment, for well do we know the nature 
of that we arc to deal with.” 

The sentinel in the court shouted to his companion 
in the stables ; and then openly and boisterously exulting 
in the prospects of a final success to a search which had 
hitherto given them useless employment throughout many 
a long day and weary ride, they rushed together to the 
block-house. 

“ Now, worthy lieges of a gracious master,” said the 
leader, when he perceived himself backed by all his armed 
followers, and peaking with the air of a man flushed with 
success, “ now' quickly provide the means of mounting to 
the upper story. I have thrice heard the tread of man, 
moving across that floor though it hath been light and 
wary, the planks are tell-tales, and have not had their 
schooling.” 

Content heard the request, which was uttered sufficiently 
in the manner of an order, perfectly unmoved. Without 
betraying either hesitation or concern he disposed himself 
to comply. Drawing the light ladder through the trap 
below, he placed it against the one above him, and ascend- 
ing, he raised the door. He then returned to the floor be- 
neath, making a quiet gesture to imply that they who 


94 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

choose might mount. But the strangers • regarded each 
other with very visible doubts. Neither of - the inferiors 
.seemed disposed to precede his chief, and the latter evi- 
dently hesitated as to the order in which it was meet to 
make the necessary advance. 

“ Is there no other manner of mounting but by this nar- 
row ascent ?” he asked. 

“ None. Thou wilt find the ladder secure, and of no 
difiicult height. It is intended for the use of women and 
children.” 

“ Aye,” muttered the officer ; “ but your women and chil- 
dren are not called upon to confront 'the devil in a human 
form. Fellows, are thy Weapons in serviceable condition? 

Here may be need of spirit cre we get our- Hist ! by the 

Divine Right of our Gracious Master ! there is truly one 
stirring above. Harkee, my friend ; thou knowest the road 
so well we will choose to follow thy conduct.” 

Content, who seldom permitted ordinary events to dis- 
turb the equanimity of his temper, quietly assented, and led 
the way up the ladder, like one who saw no ground for 
apprehension in the undertaking. The agent of the crown 
sprang after him, taking care to keep as near as possible to 
the person of his leader, -and calling to his inferiors to lose 
no time in backing him with their support. The whole 
mounted through the trap with an alacrity nothing short 
of that with which they would have pressed through a dan- 
gerous breach ; nor did either of the four take time to sur- 
vey the lodgment he had made, until the whole party was 
standing in array, with hands grasping the handles of their 
pistols, or seeking as it were instinctivelv the hilts of their 
broadswords. 

“ By the dark visage of the Stuart !” exclaimed the prin- 
cipal personage, after satisfying himself by a long and dis- 
appointed gaze, that what he said was true, “ here is naught 
but an unarmed savage boy !” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


95 


“ Didst expect to meet else ? ” demanded the still un- 
moved Content. 

“ Hum — that which we expected to meet is sufficiently 
known to the quaint old gentleman below, and to our own 
good wisdom. If thou doubtest of our right to look into 
thy very hearts, warranty for that we do can be forth- 
coming. King Charles hath little cause to be tender of 
his mercies to the dwellers of these Colonies, who lent 
but too willing ears to the whinings and hypocrisies of 
the wolves in sheep’s clothing, of whom old England hath 
now so happily gotten rid. Thy buildings shall again be 
rummaged from the bricks of the chimney-tops to the cor- 
ner-stone in thy cellars, unless deceit and rebellious cunning 
shall be abandoned, and the truth proclaimed with the open- 
ness and fairness of bold-speaking Englishmen.” 

“ I know not what is called the fairness of bold-speaking 
Englishmen, since fairness of speech is not a quality of one 
people or of one land ; but well I do know that deceit is 
sinful, and little of it, I humbly trust, is practised in this 
settlement. I am fgnorant of what is sought, and therefore 
it cannot be that I meditate treachery.” 

“ Thou hearest, Hallam ; he- reasoneth on a matter that 
toucheth the peace and safety of the King !” cried the other, 
his arrogance of manner increasing with the anger of disap- 
pointment. “ But why is this dark-skinned boy a prisoner ? 
Dost dare to constitute thyself a sovereign over the natives 
of this continent, and affect to have shackles and dungeons 
for such as meet thy displeasure !” 

“ The lad is in truth a captive ; but he has been taken in 
defence of life, and hath little to complain of, more than loss 
of freedom.” 

“ I will inquire deeply into this proceeding. Though 
commissioned on an errand of different interest, yet, as one 
trusted in a matter of moment, I take upon me the office of 
protecting every oppressed subject of the Crown. There 


96 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

may grow discoveries out of this practice, Hallam, fit to go 
before the Council itself.” 

“ Thou wilt find but little here, worthy of the time and 
attention of those burdened with the care of a nation,” re- 
turned Content. “ Tlie youthful heathen was found lurking 
near our habitations the past night ; and he is kept where 
thou seest, that he may not carry the tidings of our condi- 
tion to his people, who are doubtless outlying in the forest, 
waiting for the fit moment to work their evil.” 

“ How meanest thoii ?” hastily exclaimed the other, “ at 
hand in the forest, didst say ?” 

“ There can be little doubt. One young as this would 
scarce be found distant from the warriors of his tribe ; and 
that the more especially, as he was taken in the commission 
of an ambush.” 

“ I hope thy people arc not without good provision of 
arms, and other sufficient muniments of resistance. I trust 
the palisadoes are firm, and the posterns ingeniously de- 
fended.” 

“ We look with a diligent eye to our 'safety, for it is well 
known to us 'dwellers on the borders that there is little 
security but in untiring watchfulness. The young men 
were at the gates until the morning, and we did intend to 
make a strong scouting into the woods as the day advanced, 
in order to look for those signs that may lead us to conclu- 
sions on the number and purposes of those by whom we are 
environed, had not thy visit called us to other duties.” 

“ And why so tardy ^n speaking of this intent ?” de- 
manded the agent of the King, leading the way down the 
ladder with suspicious haste. “ It is a commendable pru- 
dence, and must not be delayed. I take upon me the 
responsibilities of commanding that all proper care be had 
in defence of the weaker subjects of the Crown who are 
here collected. Are our roadsters well replenished, Hal- 
lam ! Duty, as thou sayest, is an imperative master ; it 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 97 

recalls us more into the heart of the Colony. I would it 
might shortly j)oint the way to Europe !” he muttered as he 
reached the ground. “ Go, fellows ; see to our beasts, and 
let them be speedily prepared for departure.” 

The attendants, though men of sufficient spirit in open 
war, and when it was to be exercised in a fashion to which 
they were accustomed, had, like other mortals, a wholesome 
deference for unknown and terrific-looking danger. It is a 
well-known truth, and one that has been proved by the 
experience of two centuries, that while the European soldier 
has ever been readiest to have recourse to the assistance of 
the terrible warrior of the American forest, he has, in nearly 
every instance, when retaliation or accident has made him 
the object instead of the spectator of the ruthless nature of 
his warfare, betrayed the most salutary, and frequently the 
most abject and ludicrous apprehension of the prowess of 
his ally. While Content therefore looked so steadily, 
though still seriously, at the peculiar danger in which he 
was placed, the four strangers seemingly saw all of its 
horrors without any of the known means of avoiding them. 
Their chief quickly abandoned the insolence of office, and 
•J;he tone of disappointment, for a mien of greater courtesy ; 
and, as policy is often seen suddenly to change the senti- 
ments of even more pretending personages, when interests 
assume a new aspect, so did his language rapidly take a 
character of conciliation and courtesy. 

The handmaidens were no longer leered at ; the mistress 
of the dwelling was treated with marked deference ; and the 
air of deep respect with which even the principal of the 
party addressed the aged Puritan, bordered on an exhibition 
of commendable reverence. Something was said in the way 
of an apology, for the disagreeable obligations of duty, and 
of a difference between a manner that was assumed to an- 
swer secret purposes, and that wdiich nature and a sense of 
right would dictate ; but neither Mark nor his son appeared 

5 


98 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

to have sufficient interest in the motives of their visitors, to 
put them to the trouble of repeating explanations that were 
as awkward to those who uttered them as they were unne- 
cessary to those who listened. 

So far from offering any further obstacle to the move- 
ments of the family, the borderers were seriously urged to 
pursue their previous intentions of thoroughly examining 
the woods. The dwelling was accordingly intrusted, under 
the orders of the Puritan, to the keeping of about half the 
laborers, assisted by the Europeans, who clung with instinct- 
ive attachment to the possession of the block-house ; their 
leader repeatedly and rightly enough declaring that though 
ready at all times to risk life on a plain, he had an uncon- 
querable distaste to putting, it in jeopardy in a thicket. 
Attended by Eben Dudley, Keuben Ring, and two other 
stout -youths, all well though lightly aimed, Content then 
left the palisadoes, and took his way towards the forest. 
They entered the woods at the nearest point, always march- 
ing with the caution and vigilance that a sense of the true 
nature of the risk they ran would inspire, and much practice 
only could properly direct. 

The manner of the search was as simple as it was likely 
to prove effectual. The scouts commenced a circuit round 
the clearing, extending their line as far as might be done 
without cutting off support, and each man lending his senses 
attentively to the signs of the trail, or of the lairs, of those 
dangerous enemies, who they had reason to think were out- 
lying in their neighborhood. But, like the recent search in 
the buildings, the scouting was for a long time attended by 
no results. Many weary miles were passed slowly over, and 
more than half their task was ended, and no sign of being 
having^ life was met, except the very visible trail of their 
four guests, and the tracks of a single horse along the path 
leading to the settlements from the quarter by which the 
visitor of the previous night had been known to approach. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


99 


No comments were made by any of the party, as each in 
succession struck and crossed this path, nearly at the same 
instant ; but a low call from Reuben Ring which soon after 
met their ears, caused them to assemble in a body at the 
spot whence the summons had proceeded. 

“ Here are signs of one passing from the clearing,” said 
the quick-eyed woodsman, “ and of one too that is not num- 
bered among the family of Wish-Ton-Wish ; since his beast 
hath had a shodden hoof, a mark which belongeth to no 
animal of ours.” 

“We will follow,” said Content, immediately striking in 
upon a straggling trail, that by many unequivocal signs had 
been left by some animal which had passed that way not 
many hours before. Their search, however, soon drew to a 
close. Ere they had gone any great distance, they came 
upon the half-demolished carcass of a dead horse. There 
was no mistaking the proprietor of this unfortunate animal. 
Though some beast, or rather beasts of prey, had fed plenti- 
fully on the body, which was still fresh and had scarcely yet 
done bleeding, it was plain, by the remains of the torn 
equipments, as well as by the color and size of the animal, 
that it was no other than the hack ridden by the unknown 
and mysterious guest, who, after sharing in the worship and 
in the evening meal of the family of Wish-Ton-Wlsh, had 
so strangely and so suddenly disappeared. The leathern 
sack, the weapons which had so singularly riveted the gaze 
of old Mark, and indeed all but the carcass and a ruined 
saddle, were gone ; but what was left, sufficiently served to 
identify the animal. 

“ Here has been the tooth of wolf,” said Eben Dudley, 
stooping to examine into the nature of a ragged wound in 
the neck ; “ and here, too, has been cut of knife ; but 
whether by the hand of a red-skin, it cxceedeth my art to 
say.” 

Each individual of the party now bent curiously over the 


L ora 


100 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 


wound ; but the results of their inquiries went no further 
than to prove that it was undeniably the horse of the stran- 
ger, that had forfeited its life. To the fate of its master, 
however, there was not the slightest clue. Abandoning the 
investigation, after a long and fruitless examination, they 
proceeded to finish the circuit of the clearing. Night had 
approached ere the fatiguing task was accomplished. As 
Ruth stood at the postern waiting anxiously for their return, 
she saw by the countenance of her husband, that while no- 
thing had transpired to give any grounds of additional alarm, 
no satisfactory testimony had been obtained to explain the 
nature of the painful doubts, with which, as a tender and 
sensitive mother, she had been distressed throughout the 
day. 



THE WEPT OF W I 8 H - T O N - W I S H . lOT 


CHAPTER VIL 

“Is there not milklng-time, 

When yon go to bed, or kiln-hole, 

To whistle off these secrets ; but you must be 
Tattling before all our guests ?” 

Winter’s Tale. 

Long experience hath shown that the white man, when 
placed in situations to acquire such knowledge, readily 
becomes the master of most of that peculiar skill for which 
the North American Indian is so remarkable, and which 
enables him, among other things, to detect the signs of a 
forest trail, with a quickness and an accuracy of intelligence 
that amount nearly to an instinct. The fears of the family 
were therefore greatly quieted by the reports of the scouts, 
all of whom agreed in the opinion that no party of savages, 
that could be at all dangerous to a force like their own, was 
lying near the valley ; and some of whom, the loudest of 
which number being stout Eben Dudley, boldly offered to 
answer for the security of those who depended on their vigi- 
lance, with their own lives. These assurances had, beyond 
a doubt, a soothing influence on the apprehensions of Ruth 
and her handmaidens ; but' they somewhat failed of their 
effect with those unwelcome visitors who still continued to 
cumber Wish-Ton-Wish with their presence. Though they 
had evidently abandoned all ideas connected with the origi- 
nal object of their visit, they spoke not of departure. On 
the contrary, as night approached, their chief entered into 
council with old Ma'rk Heathcote, and made certain proposi- 
tions for the security of his dwelling, which the Puritan saw 
no reason to oppose. 


102 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S M . 

A regular watch was, in consequence, set, and maintained 
till morning*, at the palisadoes. The different members of 
the family retired to their usual places of rest, tranquil in 
appearance, if not in entire confidence of peace ; and the 
military messengers took post in the lower of the two fight- 
ing apartments of the citadel. With this simple, and to the 
strangers particularly satisfactory arrangement, the hours of 
darkness passed away in quiet ; morning returning to the 
secluded valley, as it had so often done before, with its love- 
liness unimpaired by violence or tumult. 

In the same peaceful manner did the sun set successively 
three several times, and as often did it arise on the abode 
of the Heathcotes, without further sign of danger, or motive 
of alarm. With the passage of time, the agents of the 
Stuart gradually regained their confidence. Still they never 
neglected to withdraw within the protection of the block- 
house with the retiring light ; a post which the subordinate 
named Hallam more than once gravely observed, they were, 
by their disciplined and military habits, singularly qualified 
to maintain. Though the Puritan secretly chafed under 
this protracted visit, habitual self-denial, and a manner so 
long subdued, enabled him to conceal his disgust. For the 
first two days after the alarm, the deportment of his guests 
was unexceptionable. All their faculties appeared to be 
engrossed with keen and anxious watchings of the forest, 
out of which it would seem they expected momentarily to 
see issue a band of ferocious and ruthless savages ; but symp- 
toms of returning levity began to be apparent, as confidence 
and a feeling of security increased, with the quiet passage 
of the hours. 

It was on the evening of the third day from that on 
which they had made their appearance in the settlement, 
that the man called Hallam was seen strolling, for the first 
time, through the postern so often named, and taking a 
direction which led towards the out-buildings. His air 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 103 


was less clistrnstfiil than it had been for many a weary hour, 
and his step proportionably confident and assuming. Instead 
of wearing, as he had been wont, a pair of heavy liorseman’s 
pistols at his girdle, he had even laid aside his broadsword, 
and appeared more in the guise of one who sought his per- 
sonal ease, than in that cumbersome and martial attire which 
all of his party, until now, had deemed it prudent to main- 
tain. Ho cast his glance cursorily over the fields of the 
Heathcotes, as they glowed under the soft light of a setting 
sun ; nor did his eye even refuse to wander vacantly along 
the outline of that forest, which his imagination had so lately 
been peopling with beings of a fierce and ruthless nature. 

The hour was one when rustic economy brings the labors 
of the day to a close. Among those who were more than 
usually active at that busy moment, was a handmaiden of 
Ruth, whose clear sweet voice was heard, in one of the 
inclosures, occasionally rising on the notes of a spiritual 
song, and as often sinking to a nearly inaudible hum, as she 
extracted from a favorite animal liberal portions of its nightly 
tribute to the dairy of her mistress. To that inclosure the 
stranger, as it were by accident, suffered his sauntering foot- 
steps to stroll, seemingly as much in admiration of the sleek 
herd as of any other of its comely tenants. 

“ From what thrush hast taken lessons, my pretty maid, 
that I mistook thy notes for one of the sweetest songsters of 
thy woods ?” he asked, trusting his person to the support of 
the pen, in an attitude of easy superiority. “ One might fancy 
it a robin, or a wren, trolling out his evening song, instead 
of human voice, rising and falling in every-day psalmody.” 

“ The birds of our forest rarely speak,” returned the girl, 
“ and the one among them which has most to say, does it 
like those who are called gentlemen, when they set wit to 
work to please the ear of simple country maidens.” 

“ And in what fashion may that be ?” 

“ Mockery.” 


104 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“ Ah ! I have heard of the creature’s skill. It is said to 
be a compound of the harmony of all other forest songsters, 
and yet I see little resemblance to the honest language of a 
soldi(?i' in its manner of utterance.” 

“ It speakcth witliout much meaning ; and oftener to 
cheat the car than in honest reason.” 

“ Thou forgettest that which I told thee in the morning, 
child. It would seem that they who named thee have no 
great cause to exult in their judgment of character, since 
Unbelief would better describe thy disposition than 
Faith.” 

“ It may be, that they who named me little knew how 
great must be. credulity, to give ear to all I have been 
rjequired to credit.” 

“ Thou can’st have no difficulty in admitting that thou 
art comely, since the eye itself will support thy belief ; nor 
can one of so quick speech fail to know that her wit is 
sharper than common. Thus far I admit the name of Faith 
will not surely belie thy character.” 

“ If Eben Dudley hear thee use such vanity-stirring dis- 
course,” returned the half-pleased girl, “ he might give thee 
less credit for wit than thou seemest willing to yield to 
others. I hear his heavy foot among the cattle, and ere 
long we shall be sure to see a face that hath little more 
of lightness to boast.” 

“ This Eben Dudley is a personage of no mean import- 
ance, I find !” muttered the other, continuing his walk, as 
the borderer named made his appearance at another 
entrance of the pen. The glances exchanged between them 
were far from friendly, though the woodsman permitted the 
stranger to pass without any oral expression of displeasure. 

“ The skittish heifer is getting gentle at last. Faith Ring,” 
said the borderer, casting the butt of his musket on the 
ground with a violence that left a deep impression on the 
faded sward at his feet. “ That brindled ox, old Logger, is 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 


105 


not more willing to come into his yoke than is the four- 
year-old to yield her milk.” 

“ The creature has been getting kind since you taught 
the manner to tame its humor,” returned the dairy girl, in 
a voice that, spite of every effort of maiden pride, betrayed 
something of a flurry of her spirits, while she plied her 
light task with violent industry. 

“ Umph ! I hope some other of my teachings jnay be 
as well remembered ; but thou art quick at the trick of 
learning. Faith, as is plain by the ready manner in which 
thou hast so shortly got the habit of discourse with a man 
as nimble-tongued as yon riding reprobate from over sea.” 

“ I hope that civil listening is no proof of unseemly dis- 
course on the part of one who hath been trained in modesty 
of speech, Eben Dudley. Thou hast often said, it was the 
bounden duty of her who was spoken to, to give ear, lest 
some might say she was of scornful mind, and her name for 
pride be better earned than that for good-nature.” 

“ I see that more of my lessons than- 1 had hoped are 
still in thy keeping. So thou listenest thus readily. Faith, 
because it is meet that a maiden should not be scornful 1” 

“ Thou sayest so. Whatever ill name I may deserve, 
thou hast no right to count scorn among my failings.” 

“ If I do, may I ” Eben Dudley bit his lip, and 

checked an expression which would have given grievous 
offence to* one whose habits of decency were as severe as 
those of his companion. “ Thou must have heard much 
that was profitable to-day. Faith Ring,” he added, “ con- 
sidering that thy ear is so open, and that thy opportunities 
have been great.” 

“ I know not what thou would’st say by speaking of my 
opportunities,” returned the girl, bending still lower beneath 
the object of her industry, in order to conceal the glow 
which her own quick consciousness told her was burning on 
her cheek. 

O" 


106 THE WEPT OF W I S,H - T O N - W I S H . 

“ I would say that the talc must he long that needeth 
four several trials of private speech to finish ” 

“ Four! As I hope to he believed for a girl of truth in 
speech or deed, this is hut the third time that the stranger 
hath spoken to me apart, since the sun hath risen.” 

“ If I know the number of the fingers of my hand, it is 
the fourth 1” 

“ Nay, how can’st thou, Eben Dudley, who hast been 
a-field since the crowing of the cock, know what hath 
passed about the dwellings ? It is plain that envy, or some 
other evil passion, causeth thee to speak angrily.” 

“How is it that I know ! perhaps thou thinkest. Faith, 
thy brother Reuben only hath the gift of sight.” 

“ The labor must have gone on with great profit to the 
Captain, whilst eyes have been roving over ‘other matters 1 
But perhaps they kept the strong of arm for the lookers- 
out, and have set them of feebler bodies to the toil.” 

“ I have not been so careless of thy life as to forget, at 
passing moments, to cast an eye abroad, pert-one. What- 
ever thou mayest think of the need, there would be fine 
wailings in the butteries and dairies, did the Wampanoags 
get into the clearing, and were there none to give the alarm 
in season.” 

“ Truly, Eben, thy terror of the child in the block must 
be grievous for one of thy manhood, else would’st thou not 
watch the buildings so narrowly,” retorted Faith, laughing ; 
for with the dexterity of her sex, she began to feel the 
superiority she was gradually obtaining in the discourse. 
“ Tluou dost not remember that we have valiant troopers 
from old England, to keep the younker from doing harm. 
But here cometh the brave soldier himself; it will be well 
to ask vigilance at his hands, or this night may bring us to 
the tomahawk in our sleep 1” 

“ Thou speakest of the weapon of the savages !” said the 
messenger, who had drawn near again with a visible willing- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 107 

ness to share in an interview which, while he had watched 
its progress at a distance, appeared to he growing interest- 
ing. “ I trust all fear is over from that quarter.” 

“ As you say, for this quarter,” said Eben, adjusting his - 
lips to a low whistle, and coolly looking up to examine the 
heavenly body to which he meant allusion. “ But the next 
quarter may bring us a pretty piece of Indian skirmishing.” 

“ And what hath the moon in common with an incursion 
of the savages? Are there those among them who study 
the secrets of the stars ? ” 

“ They" study deviltries and other wickedness more than 
aught else. It is npt easy for the mind of man to fancy 
horrors such as they design, when Providence has given them 
success in an inroad.” 

“ But thou did’st speak of the moon ! In what manner 
is the moon leagued with their bloody plots ? ” 

“We have her now in the full, and there is little of the night 
when the eye of 'a watcher might not see a ted-skin in the 
clearing ; but a different tale may he heard, when an hour 
or two of jet darkness shall again fall among these woods. 
There will be a change shortly ; it hehoveth us therefore to 
be on our guard.” 

“ Thou thinkest then, truly, that there are outlyers wait- 
ing for the fitting moment ? ” said the ofiicer, with an in- 
terest so marked as to cause even the but-half-pacified Faith 
to glance an arch look at her companion, though he still had 
reason to distrust a wilful expression that lurked in the 
corner of her eyes, which threatened at each moment to 
contradict his relation of the sinister omens. 

“There may be savages lying in the hills at a day’s 
journey in the forest ; but they know the aim of a white 
man’s musket too well, to be sleeping within reach of its 
range. It is the nature of an Indian to eat and sleep while 
he has time for quiet, and to fast and murder when the 
killing hour hath come.” 


108 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ And what call you the distance to the nearest settle- 
ment on the Connecticut ? ” demanded the other, with an 
air so studiously indifferent as to furnish an easy clue to the 
inner workings of his mind. 

“ Some twenty hours would bring a nimble runner to the 
outer habitations, granting small time for food and rest. 
He that is wise, howe\er, will take but little of the latter, 
until his head be safely housed within some such building as 
yon block, or until there shall stand between him and the 
forest at least a goodly row of oaken pickets.” 

“ There is no path ridden by which travellers may avoid 
the forest during the darkness ? ” 

“ I know of none. He who quits Wish-Ton-Wish for the 
towns below must make his pillow of the earth, or be fain 
to ride as long as beast can carry him.” 

“We have truly had experience of this necessity journey- 
ing hither. Thou thinkest, friend, that the savages are in 
their resting time, and that they wait the coming quarter of 
the moon ? ” 

“ To my seeming, we shall not have them sooner,” returned 
Eben Dudley ; taking care to conceal all qualification of this 
opinion, if any such he entertained, by closely locking its 
purport in a mental reservation. 

“ And what season is it usual to choose for getting into 
the saddle, when business calls any to the settlements be- 
low?” 

“Wo never fail to take our departure about the time the . 
sun touches the tall pine which stands on yonder height of 
the mountain. Much experience hath told us it is the safest 
hour ; hand of time-piece is not more sure than yon tree.” 

“ I like the night,” said the other, looking about him with 
the air of one suddenly struck with the promising appear- 
ance of the w^eather. “The blackness no longer hangs 
about the forest, and it seems a fitting moment to push the 
matter on which we are sent nearer to its conclusion.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 109 


So saying, and probably believing that he had sufficiently 
concealed the motives of his decision, the uneasy dragoon 
walked with an air of soldierly coolness towards the dwell- 
ings, signing at the same time to one of his companions, 
who was regarding him from a distance, to approach. 

“Now dost thou believe, witless Dudley, that the four 
fingers of thy clumsy hand have numbered the full amount 
of all that thou callest my listenings ? ” said Faith, when 
she thought no other ear but his to whom she spoke could 
catch her words, and at the same time laughing merrily be- 
neath her heifer, though still speaking with a vexation she 
could not entirely repress. 

“ Have I spoken aught but truth ? It is not for such as 
I to give lessons in journeying to one who follows the honest 
trade of a man-hunter. I have said that which all who 
dwell in these parts know to be reasonable.” 

“ Surely naught else. But truth is made so powerful in 
thy hands, that it needs to be taken, like a bitter healing 
draught, with closed eyes and at many swallows. One* who 
drinketh of it too freely may well-nigh be strangled. I 
marvel that he who is so vigilant in providing for the 
cares of others, should take so little heed of those he is sent 
to guard.” 

“ I know not thy meaning. Faith. When was danger 
near the valley and my musket wanting ? ” 

“ The good piece is truer to duty than its master. Thou 
.mayest have lawful license to sleep on thy post, for we 
maidens know nothing of the pleasure of the Captain in 
these matters ; but it would be as seemly, if not as soldierly, 
to place the arms at the postern and thyself in the chambers, 
when next thou hast need of watching and sleeping in the 
same hour.” 

Dudley looked as confused as one of his mould and un- 
bending temperament might well be, though he stubbornly 
refused to understand the allusion of his offended companion. 


110 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“Thou hast not discussed with the trooper from over 
sea in vain,” he said, “ since thou speakest so wisely of 
watches and arms ” 

“ Truly lie hath much schooled me irt the matter ” 

“ Umph ! and what maybe the amount of his teaching?” 

“ That he who sleepeth at a postern should neither talk too 
boldly of the enemy, nor expect maidens to put too much 
trust ” 

“ In what. Faith ? ” 

“ Thou surely knowest I mean in his watchfulness. My 
life on it, had one happened to pass at a later hour than 
common near the night-post of that gentle-spoken soldier, 
he would not have been found like a sentinel of this house- 
hold, in tho second watch of the night that was gone, 
dreaming of the good things of Madam’s buttery.” 

“Didst truly come then, girl?” said Ebeiij dropping his 
voice, and equally manifesting his satisfaction and his shame. 
“ But thou knowest, Faith, that the labor had fallen behind 
in behalf of the scouting party, and that the toil of yester- 
day exceeded that of our usual burdens. Nevertheless, I 
keep the postern again' to-night, from eight to twelve, 
and ” 

“ Will make a goodly rest of it, I doubt not. Now he 
who hath been so vigilant throughout the day must needs 
tire of the task as night draws on. Fare thee well, wakeful 
Dudley ; if thine eyes should open on the morrow, be 
thankful that the maidens have not stitched thy garments to 
the palisadoes.” 

Notwithstanding the efforts of the young man to detain 
her, the light-footed girl eluded his grasp, and bearing her 
burden towards the dairy, she tripped along the path with a 
half-averted face, in which triumph and repentance were 
already struggling for the possession. 

In the meantime the leader of the messengers and his 
military subordinate had a long and interesting conference. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. Ill 


When it was ended, the former took his way to the apart- 
ment in which Mark ELeathcote was wont to pass those por- 
tions of his time that were not occupied in his secret strivings 
for the faith, or in exercise without, while superintending the 
laborers in the fields. With some little circumlocution, 
which was intended to mask his real motives, the agent of 
the King announced his intention to take his final departure 
that very night. 

“ I felt it a duty, as one who has gained experience in 
arms by some practice in the wars of Europe,” he said, “ to 
tarry -in thy dwelling while danger threatened from the 
lurking savage. It would ill become soldiers to speak of 
their intentions ; but had the alarm in truth sounded, thou 
wilt give faith when I say that the block-house would not 
have been lightly yielded ! I shall make report to them 
that sent me, that in Captain Mark Heathcote, Charles hath 
a loyal subject, and the Constitution a firm supporter. The 
rumors, of a seemingly mistaken description, which have 
led us hither, shall be contradicted, and doubtless it will be 
found that some accident hath given rise to the deception. 
Should there beoccasion to dwell on the particulars of the 
late alarm, I trust the readiness of my followers to do good 
service to one of the King’s subjects will not be over- 
looked.” 

“ It is the striving of an humble spirit to speak naught 
evil of its fellows, and to conceal no good,” returned the 
reserved Puritan. “If thou hast found thy abode in my 
dwelling to thy liking, thou art welcome^ and if duty or 
pleasure calleth thee to quit it, peace go with thee. It will 
be useful to unite with us in asking that thy passage through 
the wilderness may be unharmed ; that He who w^atcheth 
over the m*eanest of his creatures should take thee in his 
especial keeping, and that the savage heathen ” 

“Dost think the savage out of his villages ?” demanded 
the messenger, with an indecorous rapidity that cut short 


112 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

the enumeration of the particular blessings and dangers that 
his host thought it meet'^o include in the leave-taking 
prayer. 

“Thou surely hast not tarried with us to aid in the 
defence, and yet feel it doubtful that thy services might be 
useful !” observed Mark Heathcote drily. 

“ I would the Prince of Darkness had thee and all the 
other diabolicals of these woods in his own good gripe!” 
muttered the messenger between his teeth ; and then, as if 
guided by a spirit that could not long be quelled, he assumed 
something more of his unbridled and natural air, boldly 
declining to join in the prayer on the plea of haste, and the 
necessity of his looking in person to the movements of his 
followers. “But this need not prevent thee, worthy Cap- 
tain, from pouring out an asking in our behalf while we are 
in the saddle,” he concluded ; “ for ourselves, there remaincth 
much of thy previously-bestowed pious aliment to be digested, 
though we doubt not that should thy voice be raised in our 
behalf, w^hile journeying along the first few leagues of the 
forest, the tread of the hacks would not be heavier, and it is 
certainty that we ourselves should be none the worse for the 
favor.” 

Then casting a glance of ill-concealed levity at one of his 
followers who had come to say that their steeds awaited, he 
made the parting salutation with an air in which the respect 
that one like the Puritan could scarce fail to excite, struggled 
with his habitual contempt for things of a serious character. 

The family of Mark Heathcote, the lowest dependant 
included, saw these strangers depart with great inward satis- 
faction. Even the maidens, in whom nature, in moments 
weaker than common, had aw^akened some of the lighter 
vanities, were gladly rid of gallants who could not soothe 
their ears with the unction of fiattery without frequently 
giving great offence to their severe principles, by light and 
irreverent allusions to things on which they themselves were 


THE WEFT OF WISH- T O X - W I 8 H . \ll3 

accustomed to think with fitting awe. Eben Dudley could 
scarcely conceal the chuekle with which he saw the party 
bury themselves in the forest, though neither he nor any of 
the more instructed in such matters, believed they incurred 
serious risk from their sudden enterprise. 

The opinion of the scouts proved to be founded on accu- 
rate premises. That and many a subsequent night passed 
without alarm. The season continued to* advance, and the 
laborers pursued their toil to its close without another appeal 
to their courage, or any additional reasons for vigilance. 
Whittal Ring followed his colts with impunity among the 
recesses of the neighboring forests, and the herds of the 
family went and came as long as the weather would permit 
them to range the woods, in regularity and peace. The 
period of the alarm and. the visit of the agents of the Crown 
came to be food for tradition, and during the succeeding 
winter the former often furnished motive of merriment 
around the blazing fires that were so necessary to the coun- 
try and the season. 

Still there existed in the family a living memorial of the 
unusual incidents of that night. The captive remained long 
after the events which had placed him in the power of the 
Heathcotes were beginning to be forgotten. 

A desire to quicken the seeds of spiritual regeneration, 
which, however dormant they might be, old Mark Heath- 
cote believed to exist in the whole family of man, and con- 
sequently in the young heathen as well as in others, had 
become a sort of ruling passion in the Puritan. The fashions 
and mode of thinking of the times had a strong leaning 
towards superstition, and it was far from difficult for a man 
of his ascetic habits and exaggerated doctrines to believe 
that a special interposition had cast the boy into his hands 
for some hidden but mighty purpose, that time in the good 
season would not fail to reveal. 

Notwithstanding the strong coloring of fanaticism which 


114 THE WEPT'OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

tinged the character of the religionists of those days, they 
were rarely wanting in worldly discretion. The agents they 
saw fit to employ in order to aid the more hidden purposes 
of Providence, were in common useful and rational. Thus, 
while Mark never forgot to summon the lad from his prison 
at the hour of prayer, or to include an especial asking in 
behalf of the ignorant heathen in general and of this chosen 
youth in particular, he hesitated to believe that a manifest 
miracle would be exerted in his favor. That no blame might 
attach to the portion of duty that was confided to human 
means, he had recourse to the discreet agency of kindness and 
unremitted care. But all attempts to lure the lad into the 
habits of a civilized man were completely unsuccessful. As 
the severity of the weather increased, the compassionate and 
thoughtful Buth endeavored to induce him to adopt the 
garments that were found so necessary to the comfort of men 
who were greatly his superiors in hardihood and in strength. 
Clothes decorated in a fashion suited to the taste of an 
Indian were considerately provided, and entreaties and 
threats were both freely used, with a view to make the captive 
wear them. On one occasion he was even forcibly clad by 
Eben Dudley; and being brought in the unwonted guise 
into the presence of old Mark, the latter offered up an espe- 
cial petition that the youth might be made to feel the merits 
of this concession to the principles of a chastened and 
instructed man. But within an hour the stout woodsman, 
who had been made on the occasion so active an instrument 
of civilization, announced to the admiring Faith that the 
experiment was unsuccessful ; or, as Eben somewhat irreve- 
rently described the extraordinary effort of the Puritan, 
“ the heathen hath already resumed his skin leggings and 
painted waist-cloth, notwithstanding the Captain hath 
strove to pin better garments on his back, by virtue of a 
prayer that might have clothed ^the nakedness of a whole 
tribe.” In short, the result proved in the case of this lad, 


THE WEFT OF W I S H - T O X - W 1 S H 


115 


as similar experiments have since proved in so many other 
instances, the difficulty of tempting one trained in the free- 
dom and ease of a savage, to consent to admit of the 
restraints of a state of being that is commonly thought to be 
so much superior. In every instance in which the youthful 
captive had liberty of choice, he disdainfully rejected the 
customs of the whites, adhering with a singular and almost 
heroic pertinacity to the usages of his people and his condi- 
tion. 

The boy was not kept in his bondage without extraordi- 
nary care. Once, when trusted in the fields, he had openly 
attempted to escape ; nor was the possession of his person 
recovered without putting the speed of Eben Dudley and 
Reuben Ring to a more severe trial, as was confessed by the 
athletic young borderers themselves, than any they had 
hitherto undergone. From that moment, he was never per- 
mitted to pass the palisadoes. When duty called the laborers 
afield, the captive was invariably secured in his prison, 
where, as some compensation for his confinement, he was 
supposed to enjoy the benefit of long and familiar commu- 
nication with Mark Heathcote, who had the habit of pass- 
ing many hours of each day, and not unfrequently long 
portions of the night too, within the retirement of the 
block-house. During the time only when the gates were 
closed, or when some one of strength and activity sufficient 
to control his movenuents was present, was the latter per- 
mitted to stroll at will among the buildings of the border 
fortress. This liberty he never failed to exercise, and often 
in a manner that overcame the affectionate Ruth with a 
painful excess of sensibility. 

Instead of joining in the play of the other children, the 
young captive would stand aloof, and regard their sports 
with a vacant eye, or, drawing near to the palisadoes, he 
often passed hours in gazing wistfully at those endless 
forests in which he first drew breath, and which probably 


110 'I' H E WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

contained all that was most prized in the estimation of his 
simple judgment. Ruth, touched to the heart by this silent 
but expressive exhibition of suffering, endeavored in vain to 
win his confidence, with a view of enticing him into employ- 
ments that might serve to relieve his care. The resolute 
but still quiet boy would not be lured into a forgetfulness of 
his origin. He appeared to comprehend the kind intentions 
of his gentle mistress,' and frequently he even suffered him- 
self to be led by the* mother into the centre of her own 
joyous and merry offspring ; but it was only to look upon 
their amusements with his former cold air, and to return, at 
the first opportunity, to his beloved site at the pickets. 
Still there were singular and even mysterious evidences of 
a growing consciousness of the nature of the discourse of 
which he was occasionally an auditor, that Avould have 
betrayed greater fimiiliarity with the language' and opinions 
of the inhabitants of the valley, than his known origin and 
his absolute withdrawal from communication could give 
reason to expect. This important and inexplicable fact was 
proved by the frequent and meaning glances of his dark 
eye, when aught was uttered in his hearing that affected, 
ever so remotely, his own condition ; and, once or twice, by 
the haughty gleamings of ferocity that escaped him, when. 
Eben Dudley was heard to vaunt the prowess of the white 
men in their encounters with the original owners of the 
country. The Puritan did not fail to. note these symptoms 
of a budding intelligence, as the pledges of a fruit that 
would more than reward his pious toil : and they served to 
furnish a great relief to certain occasional repugnance, 
which all his zeal could not entirely subdue, at being the 
instrument of causing so much suffering to one who, after 
all, had inflicted no positive wrong on himself 
•At the period of which we are writing, the climate of 
these States differed materially from that which is now 
known to their inhabitants. A winter in the Province of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. Il7 

Connecticut was attended by many sucesssive falls of snow, 
until the earth was entirely covered with firmly compressed 
masses of the frozen element. Occasional thaws and passing 
storms of rain, that were driven away by a return of the 
clear and cutting cold of the north-western gales, were 
wont at times to lay a covering on the ground, that was 
congealed to the consistency of ice, until men, and not 
unfrequently beasts, and sometimes sleighs, were seen 
moving on its surface, as on the bed of a frozen lake. 
During the extremity of a season like this, the hardy bor- 
derers, who could not toil in their customary pursuits, were 
wont to range the forest in quest of game, which, driven for 
food to known resorting places in the woods, then fefT most 
easily a prey to the intelligence and skill of such men as 
Eben Dudley and Reuben Ring. 

The youths never left the dwellings on these hunts, with- 
out exciting the most touching interest in their movements, 
on the part of the Indian boy. On all such occasions he 
would linger at the loops of his prison* throughout the day, 
listening intently to the reports of the distant muskets, as 
they resounded in the forest ; and the only time, during a 
captivity of so many months, that he was ever seen to smile, 
was when he examined the grim look and muscular claws 
of a dead panther, that had fallen- beneath the aim of 
Dudley, in one of these excursions to the mountains. The 
compassion of all the borderers was powerfully awakened 
in behalf of the patient and dignified young sufferer, and 
gladly would they have gh^en their captive the pleasure of 
joining in the chase, had not the task been one that was far 
from easy of accomplishment. The former of the woods- 
men just mentioned had even volunteered to lead him like 
a hound in a leash ; but this was a species of degradation 
against which it was certain that a young Indian, ambitious 
of the character, and jealous of the dignity of a warrior, 
would have openly rebelled. . 


118 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 

The quick interest of the observant Ruth had, as it has 
been seen, early detecting a growing intelligence in the boy. 
The means by which one, who never mingled in the employ- 
ments, and who rarely seemed to listen to the dialogues of 
the family, could come to comprehend the meaning of a 
language that is found sufficiently difficult for a scholar, 
were however as much of a mystery to her, as to all around 
her. Still, by the aid of that instinctive tact which so often 
enlightens the mind of woman, was she certain of the fact. 
Profiting by this knowledge, she assumed the task of endea- 
voring to obtain an honorary pledge from her protege, that, 
if permitted to join the hunters, he would return to the 
valley at the end of the day. But though the language of 
the woman was gentle as her own kind nature, and her 
entreaties that he would give some evidence of having com- 
prehended her meaning were zealous and oft repeated, not 
the smallest symptom of intelligence, on this occasion, 
could be extracted from her pupil. Disappointed, and not 
without sorrow, Ruth had abandoned the compassionate 
design in despair, when, on a sudden, the old Puritan, who 
had been a silent spectator of her fruitless efforts, announced 
his faith in the integrity of the lad, and his intention to 
permit him to make one *of the very next party that should 
leave the habitation. 

The cause of this sudden change in the hitherto stern 
watchfulness of Mark Heathcote was, like so many other of 
his impulses, a secret in his own bosom. It has just been 
said, that during the time Ruth was engaged in her kind 
and fruitless experiment to extract some evidence of intelli- 
gence from the boy, the Puritan was a close and interested 
observer of her efforts. He appeared to sympathize in her 
disappointment, but the weal of those unconverted tribes 
who were to be led from the darkness of their ways by the 
instrumentality of this youth, was far too important to admit 
the thought of rashly losing the vantage-ground he had 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 119 

gained, in the gradually-expanding intellect of the boy, by 
running the hazard of an escape. To all appearance, the 
intention of permitting him to quit the defences had there- 
fore been entirely abandoned, when old Mark so suddenly 
.announced a change of resolution. The conjectures on the 
causes of this unlooked-for determination were exceedingly 
various. Some believed that the Puritan had been favored 
with a mysterious intimation of the pleasure of Providence 
in the matter ; and others thought that, beginning to 
despair of success in his undertaking, he was Avilling to 
seek for a more visible manifestation of its purposes, by 
hazarding the experiment of trusting the boy to the direc- 
tion of his own impulses. All appeared to be of opinion 
that if the lad returned, the circumstance might be set down 
to the intervention of a miracle. Still, with his resolution 
once taken, the purpose of Mark Heathcote remained un- 
changed. He announced this unexpected intention after 
one of his long and solitary visits to the block-house, where 
it is possible he had held a powerful spiritual strife on the 
occasion ; and, as the weather was exceedingly favorable for 
such an object, he commanded his dependants to prepare to 
make the sortie on the following morning. 

A sudden and an uncontrollable gleam of delight flashed 
on the dark features of the captive, when Ruth was about to 
place in his hands the bow of her own son, and, by signs 
and words, she gave him to understand that he was to be 
permitted to use it in the free air of the forest. But the 
exhibition of pleasure disappeared as quickly as it had been 
betrayed. When the lad received the weapons, it was 
rather with the manner of a hunter accustomed to their use, 
than of one to whose hands they had so long been strangers. 
As he left the gates of Wish-Ton-Wish, the handmaidens of 
Ruth clustered about him, in Avondering interest ; for it was 
strange to see a youth so long guarded with jealous ,care, 
again free and unwatched. Notwithstanding their ordinary 


120 THE WEPT OF WISH- TON-WISH. 

dependence on the secret lights and great wisdom of the 
Puritan, there was a very general impression that the lad, 
around whose presence there was so much that was myste- 
rious and of interest to their own security, was now to be 
gazed upon for the last time. The hoy himself was un- 
moved to the last. Still he paused, with his foot on the 
threshold of the dwelling, and appeared to regard Ruth and 
her young offspring with momentary concern. Then, as- 
suming the calm air of an Indian warrior, he suffered his 
eye to grow cold and vacant, following with a nimble step 
the hunters who were already passing without the pali- 
sadoes. 


THE WEPT OF WISH -TON-WISH. 


121 


CHAPTER Vm. 


“ Well, I am your theme : you have the start of me I am dejected ; I am not 
able to answer the Welsh flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet over me : use 
me as you will ” 

Mebey Wives of WmDSOE. 


Poets, aided by the general longing of human nature, 
have given a reputation to the Spring that it rarely merits. 
Though this imaginative class of writers have said so much 
of its balmy airs and odoriferous gales, we find it nearly 
everywhere the most reluctant, churlish, and fickle of the 
four seasons. It is the youth of the year, and, like that 
probationary period of life, most fitted to afibrd the pro- 
mise of better things. There is a constant struggle between 
reality and hope throughout the whole of this slow-moving 
and treacherous period, which has an unavoidable tendency 
to deceive. All that is said of its grateful productions is 
fallacious, for the earth is as little likely to yield a generous 
tribute without the quickening infiuence of the summer 
heats, as man is wont to bring forth commendable fruits 
without the agency of a higher moral power than any he 
possesses in virtue of his innate propensities.- On the other 
hand, the fall of the year possesses a sweetness, a repose, 
and a consistency, which may .be justly likened ' to the de- 
cline of a well spent life. It is, in all countries and in every 
climate, the period when physical and moral causes unite to 
furnish the richest sources of enjoyment. If the Spring is 
the time of hope. Autumn is the season of fruition. There 
is just enough of change to give zest to the current of exist- 
ence, while there is too little of vicissitude to bo pregnant 

6 


122 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISM. 


of disappointment. Succeeding to the nakedness of Winter, 
the Spring is grateful by comparison ; while the glories of 
Autumn are enjoyed’ after the genial powers of Summer 
have been lavishly expended. 

In obedience to this great law of the earth, let poets sing 
and fancy as they may, the Spring and Autumn of America 
partake largely of the universally distinctive characters of 
the rival seasons. What nature has done on this continent 
has not been done niggardly ; and, while we may boast of a 
decline of the year that certainly rivals, and, with few excep- 
tions, eclipses the glories of most of the climates of the old 
world, the opening months rarely fail of equalizing the gifts 
of Providence, by a very decided exhibition of all the disa- 
greeable qualities for which they are remarkable. 

More than half a year had elapsed, between the time 
when the Indian boy had been found lurking in the valley 
of the Heathcotes, and that day when he was first permitted 
to go into the forest, fettered by no other restraint than the 
moral tie which the owner of the valley either knew, or 
fancied, would not fail to cause him to return to a bondage 
he had found so irksome. It was April ; but it was April 
as the month was known a century ago in Connecticut, and 
as it is even now so often found to disappoint all expecta- 
tions of that capricious season of the year. The weather 
had returned suddenly and violently to the rigor of winter. 
A thaw had been succeeded by a storm of snow and sleet, 
and the interlude of the spring-time of blossoms had termi- 
nated with a biting gale from the north-west, which had 
apparently placed a permanent seal on the lingering pre- 
sence of a second February. 

On the morning that Content led his followers into the 
forest, they issued from the postern clad in coats of skin. 
Their lower limbs were protected by the coarse leggings 
which they had worn in so many previous hunts during the 
past winter, if that might be called past which had returned, 


THE WEPT OF W I S H-T O N- W I S H . 


123 


weakened but little of its keenness, and bearing all the out- 
ward marks of Januury. When last seen, Eben Dudley, 
the heaviest of the band, was moving firmly on the crust of 
the snow, with a step as sure as if he had trodden on the 
frozen earth itself. More than one of the maidens declared, 
that though they had endeavored to trace the footsteps of 
the hunters from the palisadoes, it would have exceeded 
even the sagacity of an Indian eye to follow their trail 
along the icy path they travelled. 

Hour after hour passed without bringing tidings from the 
chase. The reports of fire-arms had indeed been occasion- 
ally heard, ringing among the arches of the woods; and 
broken echoes were, for some hours, rolling from one recess 
of the hills to another. But even these signs of the pre- 
sence of the hunters gradually receded with the advance of 
the day ; and, long ere the sun had gained the meridian, 
and its warmth, at that advanced season not without power, 
was shed into the valley, the whole range of the adjoining 
forest lay in its ordinary dull and solemn silence. 

The incident of the hunt, apart from the absence of the 
Indian boy, was one of too common occurrence to give 
birth to any particular motives of excitement. Ruth quietly 
busied herself among her women, and when the recollection • 
of those who w'ere scouring the neighboring forest came at 
all to her mind, it was coupled with the care with which 
she was providing to administer to their comforts, after the 
fatigue of a day of extraordinary personal efforts. This was 
a duty never lightly performed. Her situation was one 
eminently fitted to foster the best affections of woman, since 
it admitted of few temptations to yield to. other than the 
most natural feeling ; she was, in consequence, known on 
all occasions to exercise them with the devotedness of her 
sex. 

“ Thy father and his companions will look on our care 
with pleasure,” said the thoughtful matron to her youthful 


124 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

image, as she directed a more than usual provision of her 
larder to be got in readiness for the hunters; “home is 
ever sweetest after toil and exposure.” 

“ I doubt if Mark be not ready to faint with so weary a 
march,” said the child already introduced by the name of 
Martha ; “ he is young to go into the woods, with scouters 
tall as great Dudley.” 

“ And the heathen,” added the little Ruth, “ he is young 
too as Mark, though more used to the toil. It may be, 
mother, that he will never come to us more !” • 

“ That would grieve our venerable parent ; for fhou know- 
est, Ruth, that he hath hopes of working on the mind of 
the boy, until his savage nature shall yield to the secret 
power. But the sun is falling behind the hill, and the 
evening is coming in cool as winter ; go to the postern, and 
look out upon the fields. I would know if there be any 
signs of thy father and his party.” 

Though Ruth gave this mandate to her daughter, she did 
not the less neglect to exercise her own faculties in the 
same grateful ofiice. While the children went, as they 
were ordered, to the outer gate, the matron herself ascended 
to the lower apartment of the block, and, from its different 
loops, she took a long and anxious survey of the limited 
prospect. The shadows of the trees that lined the western 
side of the view, were already thrown far across the broad 
sheet of frozen snow, and the sudden chill which succeeded 
the disappearance of the sun announced the rapid approach 
of a night that promised to support the severe character of 
the past day. A freezing wind, which had brought with it 
the cold airs of the great lakes, and which had even tri- 
umphed over the more natural influence of an April sun, 
had however fallen, leaving a temperature not unlike that 
which dwells in the milder seasons of the year among the 
glaciers of the upper Alps. 

Ruth was too long accustomed to such forest scenes, and 


THE WEPT OF W I S II - T O N - W I S H . 


125 


to such a “ lingeriug of winter in the lap of May,” to feel, on 
their account, any additional uneasiness. But the hour had 
now arrived when she had reason to look for the return of 
the hunters. With the expectation of seeing their forms 
issuing from the forest, came the anxiety which is an unavoid- 
able attendant of disappointment. The shadows continued 
to deepen in the valley, until the gloom thickened to the dark- 
ness of night, without bringing any tidings from those without. 

When a delay, which v:as unusual in the members of a 
family circumstanced like that of the Wish-Ton- Wish, came 
to be coupled with various little observations that had been 
made during the day, it was thought that reasons for alarm 
were beginning, at each instant, to grow more plausible. 
Reports of fire-arms had been heard, at an early hour, from 
opposite points in the hills, and in a manner too distinct to 
be mistaken for echoes ; a certain proof that the different 
members of the hunt had separated in the forest. Under 
such circumstances, it was not difficult for the imagination 
of a wife and a mother, of a sister, or of her who secretly 
confessed a still more tender interest in some one of the 
hunters, to conjure to the imagination the numberless dan- 
gers to which those who were engaged in these expeditions 
were known to be exposed. 

“ I doubt tliat the chase hath drawn them further from 
the valley than is fitting for the hour and the season,” 
observed Ruth to her maidens, who had gathered in a 
group about her, at a point that overlooked as much of the 
cleared land around the buildings as the darkness would 
allow ; “ the gravest man becomes thoughtless as the unre- 
flecting child, when led by the eagerness of the pursuit. It 
is the duty of older heads to think for those that want expe- 
rience — but into what indiscreet complaints are my fears 
leading ! It may be that my husband is even now striving 
to collect his party, in order to return. Have any heard his 
conch sounding the recall ?” 


120 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

“ The woods are still as the day the first echo of the axe 
was heard among the trees,” returned Faith. “ I did hear 
that which sounded like a strain of brawling Dudley’s songs, 
but it proved to be no more than the lowing of one of his 
own oxen. Perchance the animal misseth some of his mas- 
ter’s care.” 

“ Whittal Ring hath looked to the beasts, and it may r.ot 
be that he hath neglected to feed, among others, the crc a- 
tures of Dudley. Thy mind is given to levity. Faith, in the 
matter of this young man. It is not seemly that one of thy 
years and sex should manifest so great displeasure at the 
name of a youth, who is of an hones't nature, and of honest 
habits, too, though he may appear ungainly to the eye, and 
have so little favor with one of thy disposition.” 

“ I did not fashion the man,” said Faith, biting her lip, 
and tossing her head *, “ nor is it aught to me whether he 
be gainly or not. As to my favor, when he asks it, the 
man shall not w^ait long to know the answer. But is not 
yon figure the fellow himself, Madame Heathcote ? — here, 
coming in from the eastern hill, along the orchard path. 
The form I mean is just here ; you may see it, at this 
moment, turning by the bend in the brook.” 

“ There is one of a certainty, afid it should be one of our 
hunting party, too ; and yet he doth not seem to be of a 
size or of a gait like that of Eben Dudley. Thou should’st 
have a knowledge of thy kindred, girl ; to me it seemeth 
thy brother.” 

“ Truly, it may be Reuben Ring ; still it hath much of 
the swagger of the other, though their stature be nearly 
equal ; the manner of carrying the musket is much the 
same with all the borderers too ; one cannot easily tell the 
form of a man from a stump, by this light, and yet do 
I think it will prove to be the loitering Dudley.” 

“ Loiterer or not, he is the first to return from this long 
and weary chase,” said Ruth, breathing heavily, like one 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S 11 . 


127 


who regretted that the truth were so. “ Go thou to the 
postern, and admit him, girl. I ordered holts to be drawn, 
for I like not to leave a fortress defended by a female 
garrison, at this hour, with open gates. I will hie to the 
dwelling and see to the comforts of those who are a-hun- 
gered, since it will not be long ere we shall have more of 
them at hand.” 

Faith complied, with affected indifference and sufficient 
delay. By the time she had reached the place of admission, 
a form was seen ascending the acclivity, and taking the 
direction which led to the same spot. In the next minute a 
rude effort to enter announced an arrival without. 

“ Gently, Master Dudley,” said the wilful girl, who held 
the bolt with one hand, though she maliciously delayed to 
remove it. “We know thou art powerful of arm, and yet 
the palisadoes will scarcely fall at thy touch. Here are no 
Sampsons to pull down the pillars on our heads. Perhaps 
we may not be disposed to give entrance to them who stay 
abroad out of all season.” 

“ Open the postern, girl,” said Eben Dudley ; “ after 
which, if thou hast aught to say, we shall be better con- 
venienced for discourse.” 

“ It rnay be that thy conversation is most agreeable when 
heard from without. Render an account of thy backslid- 
ings, throughout this day, penitent Dudley, that I may 
take pity on thy weariness. But lest hunger should have 
overcome thy memory, I may serve to help thee to the par- 
ticulars. The first of thy offences was to consume more 
than thy portion of the cold meats ; the -second was to 
suffer Reuben Ring to kill the deer, and for thee to claim it; 
and a third was a trick thou hast of listening so much to 
thine own voice, that even the beasts fled thee, from dislike 
of thy noise.” 

“ Thou triflest unseasonably, Faith ; I would speak with 
the Captain without delay.” 


128 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

“ It may be that he is better employed than to desire 
such company. Thou art not the only strange animal 
by many who hath roared at the gate of Wish-Ton- 
\ihsh.” 

“ Have any come within the day. Faith ?” demanded the 
borderer, with the interest such an event would be likely to 
create in the mind of one who habitually lived in so great 
retirement. 

“ What sayest thou to a second visit from the gentle- 
spoken stranger ? he who favored us with so much gay dis- 
course, the by-gone fall of the year. That would be a 
guest fit to receive ! I w^arrant me his knock would not be 
heard a second time.” 

“ The gallant had better beware the moon !” exclaimed 
Dudley, striking the butt of his musket against the ice with 
so much force as to cause his companion to start in alarm. 
“ What fool’s errand hath again brought him to prick his 
nag so deep into the forest ?” 

“ Nay, thy wit is ever like the unbroken colt, a head- 
strong run-away. I said not, in full meaning, that the man 
had come ; I only invited thee to give an opinion in the 
event that he should arrive unexpectedly, though I am 
far from certain that any here ever expect to sec his face 
again.” 

“ This is foolish prating,’’ returned the youth, provoked 
at the exhibition of jealousy into which he had been in- 
cautiously betrayed. “ I tell thee to withdraw the bolt, for 
I have great need to speak with the Captain, or with his 
son.” 

“ Thou may’st open thy mind to the first, if he will listen 
to what thou hast to say,” returned the girl, removing the 
impediment to his entrance ; “ but thou wilt sooner get the 
ear of the other by remaining at the gate, since he has not 
yet come in fi-om the foresL” 

I)udley recoiled a pace, and repeated her words in the 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 129 

tone of one who admitted a feeling of alarm to mingle with 
his surprise. 

“ Not in from the forest !” he said ; “ surely there are 
none abroad, now that I am home !” 

“ Why dost say it ? I have put my jibes upon thee more 
in payment of ancient transgressions than for any present 
offence. So far from being last, thou art the first of the 
hunters we have yet seen. Go in to the Madam without 
delay, and tell her of the danger, if any there be, that we 
take speedy measures for our safety.” 

“ That would do little good, truly,” muttered the bor- 
derer, like one musing. “ Stay thou here, and watch the 
postern. Faith ; I will back to the woods ; for a timely 
word or a signal blow from my conch might quicken their 
footsteps.” 

“ What madness hath beset thee, Dudley ! Thou 
would’st not go into the forest again, at this hour, and 
alone, if there be reason for fear ! Come further within the 
gate, man, that I may draw the bolt. The Madam will 
wonder that we tarry here so long.” 

“ Ha ! — I hear feet moving in the meadow ; I know it 
by the creaking of the snow ; the others are not lagging ” 

Notwithstanding the apparent certainty of the young 
man, instead of going forth to meet his friends, he with- 
drew a step, and with his own hand drew the bolt that 
Faith had just desired might be fastened ; taking care at 
the same time to let fall a swinging bar of wood, which 
gave additional security to the fastenings of the postern. 
His apprehensions, if any such had induced this caution, 
were however unnecessary ; fol’ ere he had time to make, 
or even to reflect on any further movement, admission was 
demanded in the well known voice of the son of him who 
owned the valley. The bustle of the arrival — for with Con- 
tent entered a group of companions loaded with venison, 
put an end to the dialogue. Faith seized the opportunity 

6 * 


130 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

to glide away in the obscurity, in order to announce to her 
mistress that the hunters had returned — an office that she 
performed without entering at all into the particulars of her 
own interview with Ebcn Dudley. 

It is needless to dwell on the satisfaction with which 
Ruth received her husband and son, after the uneasiness she 
had just suffered. Though the severe manners of the Pro- 
vince admitted of no violent exhibition of passing emotions, 
secret joy was reigning in the mild eyes, and glowing about 
the flushed cheeks of the discreet matron, while she person- 
ally officiated in the offices of the evening meal. 

The party had returned, teeming with no extraordinary 
incidents ; nor did they appear to be disturbed with any of 
that seriousness of air which had so unequivocally charac- 
terized the deportment of him who had preceded them. 
On the contrary, each had his quiet tale to relate, now per- 
haps at the expense of a luckless companion, and sometimes 
in order that no part of his own individual skill as a 
hunter should be unknown. The delay was accounted for, 
as similar delays are commonly explained, by distance and 
the temptations of an unusually successful chase. As the 
appetites of those who had spent the day in the exciting 
toil were keen, and the viands tempting, the first half-hour 
passed quickly, as all such half-hours are wont to pass, in 
garrulous recitals of personal exploits, and of the hairbreadth 
escapes of deer, which, had fortune not been fickle, 
should have now been present as trophies of the skill of the 
hand by which they fell. It was only after personal vanity 
was sufficiently appeased, and when the hunger even of a 
border-man could achieve no more, that the hunters began 
to look about them with a diminished excitement, and to 
discuss the events of the day with a fitting calmness, and 
with a discretion more suited to their ordinary self-com- 
mand. 

“ We lost the sound of thy conch, wandering Dudley, as 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 131 


we fell into the deep hollow of the mountain,” said Content, 
in a pause of the discourse ; “ since which time, neither eye 
nor ear of any hfis had trace of thy movements, until we 
met thee at the postern, stationed like a looker-out on his 
watch.” 

The individual addressed had mingled in none of the 
gaiety of the hour. While others fed freely, or joined in 
the quiet joke, which could escape the lips of even men 
chastened as his companions, Eben Dudley had tasted spar- 
ingly of the viands. Nor had the muscles of his hard coun- 
tenance once relaxed in a smile. A gravity and a silence 
so extraordinary, in one so little accustomed to exhibit either 
quality, did not fail to attract attention. It was universally 
ascribed to the circumstance that he had returned empty- 
handed from the hunt : and now that one having authority 
had seen fit to give such a direction to the discourse, the 
imaginary delinquent was not permitted to escape unsca- 
thed. 

The butcher had little to do with this day’s killing,” 
said one of the young men ; “ as a punishment for his 
absence from the slaughter, he should be made to go on 
the hill and bring in the two bucks he will find hanging 
from a maple sapling near to the drinking spring. Our 
meat should pass through his hands in some fashion or 
other, else will it lack savor.” 

“ Ever since the death of the straggling wether, the trade 
of Eben hath been at a stand,” added another ; “ the down- 
hearted youth seems like one ready to give up his calling to 
the. first stranger that shall ask it.” 

“ Creatures which run at large prove better mutton than 
the stalled wether,’-’ continued a third ; “ and thereby cus- 
tom was getting low before this hunt. Beyond a doubt, he 
has a full supply for all who shall bo likely to seek venison 
in his stall.” 

Ruth observed the countenance of her husband grew 


132 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

grave, at these allusions to an event he had always seemed 
to wish forgotten; and she interposed with a view to lead the 
minds of those who listened, back to ^natter more fitting to 
be discussed. 

“ How is this ?” she exclaimed in haste ; “ hath the stout 
Dudley lost any of his craft ? I have never counted with 
greater certainty on the riches of the table, than when 
he hath been sent among the hills for the fat deer or the 
tender turkey. It would much grieve me to learn that he 
beginneth to lack the hunter’s skill.” 

“ The man is getting melancholy with over-feeding,” mut- 
tered the wilftd tones of one busied among the vessels in a 
distant part of the room. “ He taketh his exercise alone, in 
order that none need discover the failing. I think he be 
much disposed to go over sea, in order to become a trooper.” 

Until now, the subject of these mirthful attacks had 
listened like one too confident of his established reputation 
to feel concern , but at the sound of the last speaker’s voice, 
he grasped the bushy covering of one entire cheek in his 
hand, and turning a reproachful and irritated glance at the 
already half-repentant eye of Faith Ring, all his natural 
spirit returned. 

“ It may be that my skill hath left me,” he said, “ and 
that I love to be alone, rather than to be troubled with the 
company of some that might readily be named, no reference 
being had to such gallants as ride up and down the colony, 
putting evil opinions into the thoughts of honest men’s 
daughters ; but why is Eben Dudley to bear all the small 
shot of your humors, when there is another who, it might 
seem, hath strayed even further from your trail than he ?” 

Eye sought eye, and each youth by hasty glances endea- 
vored to read the countenances of all the rest of the com- 
pany, in order to learn who the absentee might be. The 
young borderers shook their heads, as the features of every 
well known face were recognised, and a general exclamation 




THE WEPT OF AV I S II - T O N - W I S H. 


133 


of denial was about to break from their lips, when Ruth 
exclaimed — 

“ Truly, the Indian is wanting!” 

So constant was the apprehension of danger from the 
savages, in the breasts of those who dwelt on that exposed 
frontier, that every man arose at the words, by a sudden and 
common impulse, and each individual gazed about him in a 
surprise that was a little akin to dismay. 

“ The boy was with us when we quilted the forest,” said 
Content, after a moment of death-like stillness. “ I spoke to 
him in commendation of his activity, and of the knowledge 
he had shown in beating up the secret places of the deer; 
though there is little reason to think my words were under- 
stood.” 

“ And were it not sinful to take such solemn evidence in 
behalf of so light a matter, I could be qualified on the Book 
itself, that he was at my elbow as we entered the orchard,” 
added Reuben Ring, a man renowned in that little commu- 
nity for the accuracy of his vision. 

“ And I will make oath or declaration of any sort, lawful 
or conscientious, that he came not within the postern when 
it w’as opened by my own hand,” returned Eben Dudley. 
“ I told off the number of the party as you passed, and 
right sure am I that no red-skin entered.” 

“ Canst thou tell us aught of the lad ?” demanded Ruth, 
quick to take the alarm on a subject that had so long exer- 
cised her care, and given food to her imagination. 

“ Nothing. With me he hath not been seen since the 
turn of the day. I have not seen the face of living man 
•from that moment, unless in truth one of mysterious charac- 
ter, whom I met in the forest, may be so called.” 

The manner in which the woodsman spoke was too serious 
and too natural, not to give birth in his auditors to some of 
his own gravity. Perhaps the appearance of the Puritan, 
at that, moment, aided in quieting the levity that had been 



134 THE WEPT' OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


uppermost in the minds of the young men ; for it is certain 
that, when he entered, a deeper and a general curiosity came 
over the countenances of all present. Content waited a 
moment in respectful silence, till his father had moved 
slowly through the circle, and then he prepared himself to 
look further into an affair that began to assume the appear-, 
ance of matter worthy of investigation. 








O 


THE WEPT OP W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 


i£;5 


CHAPTER IX. 

“Last night of all, 

When yon same star, that’s westward from the pole, 

Had made its course to illume that part of heaven 
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself. 

The bell then heating one ” 

“ Peace, break thee off; look where it comes again.” 

Hamlet. 


It is our duty as faithful historians of the events recorded 
in this homely legend, to conceal no circumstance which 
may throw the necessary degree of light on its incidents, 
nor any opinion that may serve for the better instruction of 
the reader in the characters of its actors. In order that this 
obligation may be discharged with sufficient clearness and 
precision, it has now become necessary to make a short 
digression from the immediate action of the tale. 

Enough has been already shown, to prove that the Heath- 
cotes lived at a time, and in a country, where very quaint 
and peculiar religious dogmas had the ascendency. At a 
period when visible manifestations of the goodness of Pro- 
vidence, not only in spiritual but in temporal gifts, were con- 
fidently expected and openly proelaimed, it is not at all 
surprising that more evil agencies should be thought to 
exercise their power in a manner that is somewhat opposed 
to the experience of our own age. As we have no wish, 
however, to make these pages the vehicle of a theological 
or metaphysical controversy, we shall deal tenderly with 
certain important events, that most of the writers who were 
contemporary with the facts, assert took place in the Colonies 
of Nbw England, at and about the period of which we are now 



>36 THE WEPT O F W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

4 

writing. It is sufficiently known tfiat the art of witchcraft, 
and one even still more diabolical and direct in its origin, 
were then believed to flourish in that quarter of the world, to 
a degree that was probably in a very just proportion to the 
neglect with which most of the other arts of life were treated. 

There is so much grave and respectable authority to 
prove the existence of these evil influences, that it requires 
a pen hardier than any we wield, to attack them without 
a suitable motive. “ Flashy people,” says the learned and 
pious Cotton Mather, Doctor of Divinity and Fellow of the 
Royal Society, “ may burlesque these things ; but when hun- 
dreds of the most sober people, in a country where they 
have as much mother wit, certainly, as the rest of mankind, 
know them to he true^ nothing but the absurd and froward 
spirit of Sadducism can question themr’ Against this grave 
and credited authority, we pretend to raise no question of 
scepticism. We submit to the testimony of such a writer 
as conclusive, though as credulity is sometimes found to be 
bounded by geographical limits, and to possess something 
of a national character, it may be prudent to refer certain 
readers who dwell in the other hemisphere to the Common 
Law of England on this interesting subject, as it is inge- 
niously expounded by Keeble, and approved of by the 
twelve judges of that highly civilized and enlightened 
island. With this brief reference to so grave authorities in 
support of what we have now to offer, we shall return to 
the matter of the narrative, fully trusting that its incidents 
will throw some additional light on the subject of so deep 
and so general concern. 

Content waited respectfully until his father had takep his 
seat, and then perceiving that the venerable Puritan had no 
immediate intention of moving personally in the affair, he 
commenced the examination of his dependant as follows ; . 
opening the matter with a seriousness that was abundantly 
warranted by the gravity of the subject itself. 

y 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 137 

“ Thou hast spoken of one met in the forest,” he said : 
“ proceed with the purport of that interview, and tell us of 
what manner of man it was.” 

Thus directly interrogated, Eben Dudley disposed himself 
to give a full and satisfactory answer. First casting a glance 
around, so as to embrace every curious and eager counte- 
nance, and letting his look rest a little longer than common 
on a half-interested, half-incredulous, and somewhat ironical 
dark eye, that was riveted on his own from a distant 
corner of the room, he commenced his statement as fol- 
lows : 

“ It is known to y6u all,” said the borderer, “ that when 
we had gained the mountain-top there was a division of our 
numbers, in such a fashion that each hunter should sweep 
his own range of the forest, in order that neither moose, 
deer, nor bear, might have reasonable chance of escape. 
Being of large frame, and it may be of swifter foot than 
common, the young Captain saw fit to command Reuben 
Ring to flank one end of the line, and a man, who is nothing 
short of him in either speed or strength, to do the same 
duty on the other. There was nothing particularly worthy 
of mention that took place on the flank I held for the first 
two hours ; unless indeed the fact, that three several times 
did I fall upon a maze of well-beaten deer-tracks, that as 
often led to nothing ” 

“ These are signs common to the woods, and they are no 
more than so many proofs that the animal has its sports, 
like any other playful creature, when not pressed by hunger 
or by danger,” quietly observed Content. 

“ I pretend not to take those deceitful tracks much into 
the account,” resumed Dudley : “ but shortly after losing 
the sound of the conchs, I roused a noble buck from his lair 
beneath a thicket of hemlocks, and having the game in view, 
the chase led me wide-off towards the wilderness, it may 
have been the distance of two leagues.” 


138 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 

“ And in all that time had yon no fitting moment to strike 
the beast ?” 

“ None whatever ; nor, if opportunity had been given, am 
I bold to say that hand of mine would have been hardy 
enough to aim at its life.” ' 

“ Was there aught in the deer that a hunter should seek 
to spare it?” 

“ There was that in the deer, that might bring a Christian 
man to much serious refiection.” 

“ Deal more openly with the nature and appearance of 
the animal,” said Content, a little less tranquil than usual ; 
while the youths and maidens placed themselves in atti- 
tudes still more strongly denoting attention. 

Dudley pondered an instant, and then he commenced a 
less equivocal enumeration of what he conceived to be the 
marvels of his tale. 

“Firstly,” he said, “ there was no trail, neither to nor- 
from the spot where the creature had made its lair ; secondly, 
when roused, it took not the alarm, but leaped sportingly 
ahead, taking sufficient care to be beyond the range of 
musket, Avithout ever becoming hid from the eye ; and lastly, 
its manner of disappearance Avas as worthy of mention as 
any other of its movements.” 

“ And in Avhat manner did’st thou lose the creature ? ” 

“I had gotten it upon the crest of a hillock, Avhere true 
eye and steady hand might make sure of a buck of much 
smaller size, Avhen — did’st hear aught that might be ac- 
counted Avonderful, at a season of the year Avhen the snows 
are still lying on the earth ! ” 

The auditors regarded one another curiously, each en- 
deavoring to recall some unAvonted sound Avhich might sus-. 
tain a narrative that Avas fast obtaining the seducing interest 
of the marvellous. 

“ Wast sure. Charity, thajb the howl Ave heard from the 
forest Avas the yell of the beaten hound ?” demanded a hand- 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 139 


maiden of Ruth, of a blue-eyed companion, who seemed 
equally well disposed to contribute her share of evidence in 
support of any exciting legend. 

“It might have been other,” Vvas the answer; “though 
the hunters do speak of their having beaten . the pup for 
restiveness.” 

“ There was a tumult among the echoes that sounded like 
the noises which follow the uproar of a falling tree,” said 
Ruth, thoughtfully. “ I remember to have asked if it might 
not be that some fierce beast had caused a general discharge 
of the musketry, but my father was of opinion that death 
had undermined some heavy oak.” 

“ At what hour might this have happened ?” 

“ It was past the turn of the day ; for it was at the moment 
I bethought me of the hunger of those who had toiled since 
light in the hills.” 

“ That then was the sound I mean. It came not from 
falling tree, but was uttered in the air, far above all forests. 
Had it been heard by one better skilled in the secrets of 
nature ” 

“He would say it thundered,” interrupted Faith Ring, 
who, unlike most of the other listeners, manifested little of 
the quality which was expressed by her name. “Truly, 
Eben Dudley hath done marvels in this hunt ; he hath come 
in with a thunderbolt in his head, instead of a fat buck on 
his shoulders !” 

“ Speak reverently, girl, of that thou dost not compre- 
hend,” said Mark Heathcote, with stern authority. “ MaT.- 
vels are manifested equally to the ignorant and to the 
learned ; and although vain-minded pretenders to philoso- 
phy affirm that the warring of the elements is no more than 
nature working out its own purification, yet do we know, 
from all ancient authorities, that other manifestations are 
therein exhibited. Satan may have control over the maga- 
zines of the air ; he can ‘ let off the ordnance of Heaven.’ 


140 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - w I S H . 

That ‘ the Prince of the Powers of Darkness'’ hath as good 
a share in chemistry as goes to the making of Aurum 
Fulminans, is asserted by one of the wisest writers of our 
age.” 

From this declaration, and more particularly from the 
learning 'discovered in the Puritan’s speech, there was no 
one so hardy as to dissent. Faith was glad to shrink back 
among the bevy of awe-struck maidens, while Content, after 
a sufficiently respectful pause, invited thc^ woodsman, who 
was yet teeming with the most important part of his com- 
munication, to proceed. 

“ While my eye was searching for the lightning which 
should in reason have attended that thunder, had it been 
uttered in the manner of nature, the buck had vanished ; 
and when I rushed upon the hillock, in order to keep the 
game in view, a man mounting its opposite side came so 
suddenly upon me, that our. muskets were at each other’s 
breasts before either had time for speech.” 

“ What mariner of man was he ?” 

“ So far as human judgment might determine, he seemed 
a traveller, who was endeavoring to push through the wil- 
derness, from the towns below to the distant settlements of 
the Bay Province ; but I account it exceedingly wonderful 
that the trail of a leaping buck should have brought us 
together in so unwonted a manner !” 

“ And didst thou see aught of the deer, after that encoun- 
ter ?” 

“ In the first hurry of the surprise, it did certainly appear 
as if an animal were bounding along the wood into a distant 
thicket ; but it is known how readily one may be led by 
seeming probabilities into a false conclusion, and so 1 
account that glimpse as delusion. No doubt the animal 
having done that which it was commissioned to perform, 
did then and there disappear, in the manner I have 
named.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 141 

“ It might have been thus. And the stranger — had you 
discourse with him before parting ?” 

“We tarried together a short hour. He related much 
marvellous matter of the experiences of the people near the 
sea. According to the testimony of the stranger, the Pow- 
ers of Darkness have been manifested in the Provinces in a 
hideous fashion. Numberless of the believers have been 
persecuted by the invisibles, and greatly have they endured 
suffering, both in soul and body.” 

“ Of all this have I witnessed surprising instances in my 
day,” said Mark Heathcote, breaking the awful stillness that 
succeeded the annunciation of so heavy a visitation on the 
peace of the Colony, with his deep-toned and imposing 
voice. “ Did he with whom you conferred, enter into the 
particulars of the trials ?” 

“ He spoke also of certain other signs that are thought to 
foretell the coming of trouble. When I named the weary 
chase that I had made, and the sound which came from the 
air, he said that these would be accounted trifles in the 
towns of the Bay, where the thunder and its lightnings had 
done much evil work the past season, Satan having espe- 
cially shown his spite by causing them to do injury to the 
houses of the Lord.” 

“ There has long been reason to think that the pilgrimage 
of the righteous into these wilds, will be visited by some 
fierce opposition of those envious natures, which, fostering 
evil themselves, cannot brook to look upon the toiling of 
such as strive to keep the narrow path. We will now resort 
to the only weapon it is permitted us to wield in this con- 
troversy, but which, when handled with diligence and zeal, 
never fails to lead to victory.” 

So saying, without waiting to hear more of the tale of 
Eben Dudley, old Mark Heathcote arose, and assuming the 
upright attitude usual among the people of his sect, he 
addressed himself to prayer. The grave and awe-struck but 


142 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH, 

deeply confiding congregation imitated his example, and the 
lips of the Puritan had parted in the act of utterance, when 
a low, faltering note, like that produced by a wind instru- 
ment, rose on the outer air, and penetrated to the place 
where the family was assembled. A conch was suspended 
at the postern, in. readiness to be used by any of the family 
whom accident or occupation should detain beyond the 
usual hour of closing the gates ; and both by the direction 
and nature of this interruption, it would seem that an appli- 
cant for admission stood at the portal, the effect on the 
auditors was general and instantaneous. Notwithstanding 
the recent dialogue, the young men involuntarily sought 
their arms, while the startled females huddled together like 
a flock of trembling and timid deer. 

“ There is, of a certainty, a signal from without !” Content 
at length observed, after waiting to suffer the sounds to die 
away among the angles of the buildings. “ Some hunter 
who hath strayed from his path, claimeth hospitality.” 

Eben Dudley shook his head like one who dissented ; but, 
having with all the other youths grasped his musket, he 
stood as undetermined as the rest concerning the course it 
was proper to pursue. It is uncertain how long this indeci- 
sion might have continued, had no further summons been 
given ; but he without appeared too impatient of delay to 
suffer much time to be lost. The conch sounded again, and 
with far better success than before. The blast was longer, 
louder, and bolder, than that which had first pierced the 
walls of the dwelling, rising full and rich on the air, as 
though one well practised in the use of the instrument had 
placed lips to the shell. 

Content would scarcely have presumed to disobey a man- 
date coming from his father, had it been little in -conformity 
with his own intentions. But second thoughts had already 
shown him the necessity of decision, and he was in the act 
of motioning to Dudley and Reuben Ring to follow, when 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON- WISH. 143 


the'Puritan bade him look to the matter. Making a sign 
for the rest of the family to remain where they were, and 
arming himself with a musket which had more than once 
that day been proved to be of certain aim, he led the way 
to the postern which has already been so often mentioned. 

“ Who sounds at my gate ?” demanded Content, when he 
and his followers had gained a position, under cover of a low 
earthen mound erected expressly for the purpose of com- 
manding the entrance ; “who summons a peaceful family, at 
this hour of the night, to their outer defences.” 

“ One who hath need of what he asketh, or he would not 
disturb thy quiet,” was the answer. “ Open the postern. 
Master Heathcote, without fear ; it is a ^ rother in the faith, 
and a subject of the same laws, that asketh the boon.” 

“ Here is truly a Christian man without,” said Content, 
hurrying to the postern, which, without a moment’s delay, 
he threw" freely open, saying as he did “ enter of Hea- 
ven’s mercy, and be welcome to that we have to bestow.” 

A tall, and, by his tread, a heavy man, wrapped in a 
riding cloak, bowed to the greeting, and immediately passed 
beneath the low lintel. Every eye was keenly fastened on 
the' stranger, who, after ascending the acclivity a short dis- 
tance, paused, while the young men, under their master’s 
orders, carefully and. scrupulously renewed the fastenings of 
the gate. 'V\n[ien bolts and bars had done their office. Con- 
tent joined his guest; and after making another fruitless 
effort, by the feeble light which fell from the stars, to scan 
his person, he said, in his own meek and quiet manner — 

“Thou must have great need of warmth and nourishment. 
The distance from this valley to the nearest habitation is 
wearisome, and one who hath journeyed it, in a season like 
this, may well be nigh fainting. Follow, and deal with that 
we have to bestow as freely as if it were thine own.” 

Although the stranger manifested none of that impatience 
which the heir of the Wish-Ton-Wish appeared to think 


144 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

one so situated might in all reason feel, thus invited he did 
not hesitate to comply. As he followed in the footsteps of 
his host, his tread, however, was leisurely and dignified ; 
and, once or twice, when the other half delayed in order to 
make some passing observation of courtesy, he betrayed no 
indiscreet anxiety to enter on those personal indulgences 
which might jn reality prove so grateful to one who had 
journeyed far in an inclement season, and along a road 
where neither dwelling nor security invited repose. 

“ Here is warmth and a peaceful welcome,” pursued Con- 
tent, ushering his guest into the centre of a group of fear- 
fully anxious faces. “In a little time, other matters shall he 
added to thy comfort.” 

AYhen the stranger found himself under 'the glare of a 
powerful light, and confronted to so many curious and won- 
dering eyes, for a single instant he hesitated. Then stepping 
calmly forward, he cast the short riding-cloak, which had 
closely muffled his features, from his shoulders, and disco- 
vered the severe eye, the stern lineaments, and the athletic 
form of him who had once before been known to enter the 
doors of Wish-Ton-Wish with little warning, and to have 
quitted them so mysteriously. 

The Puritan had arisen, with quiet and grave courtesy, to 
receive his visitor ; but obvious, powerful, and extraordinary 
interest gleamed about his usually subdued visage, when, as 
the features of the other were exposed, to view, he recog- 
nised the person of the man who advanced to meet him. 

“Mark Heathcote,” said the stranger, “my visit is to thee. 
It may, or it may not, prove longer than the last, as thou 
shalt receive my tidings. Affairs of the last moment de- 
mand that there should be little delay in hearing that which 
I have to ofiPer.” 

Notwithstanding the excess and nature of the surprise 
which the veteran Mark had certainly betrayed, it endured 
just long enough to allow those wondering eyes, which 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


145 


were eagerly devouring all that passed, to note its exist- 
ence. Then, the subdued and characteristic manner which 
in general marked his air, instantly returned, and with a 
quiet gesture, like that which friends use in moments of 
confidence and security, he beckoned to the other to follow 
to an inner room. The stranger complied, making a slight 
bow of recognition to Ruth, as he passed her on the way to 
the apartment chosen for an interview that was evidently 
intended to be private. 




l46 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER X. 

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partizan? 

Sor, Do, if it will not stand. 

Mar. ’Tis here 1 

Hot. ’Tis here I 
Mar. ’Tis gone 1” 

Hamlet. 

The time that this unexpected visitor stood uncloaked 
and exposed to recognition, before the eyes of the curious 
group in the yuter room, did not much exceed a minute. 
Still it was long enough 'to allow men who rarely overlooked 
the smallest peculiarity of dress or air, to note some of the 
more distinguishing accompaniments of his attire. The 
heavy horseman’s pistols, once before exhibited, were in his 
girdle, and young Mark got a glimpse of a silver-handled 
dagger which had pleased his eye before that night. But 
the passage of his grandfather and the stranger from the 
room prevented the hoy from determining whether it was 
entirely of the same fashion as that, which, rather as a 
memorial of bygone scenes than . for any service that it 
might now be expected to perform, hung above the bed of 
the former. 

“The man hath not yet parted with his arms!” exclaimed 
the quick-sighted youth, when he found that every other 
tongue continued silent. “ I would he may now leave them 
with my grand’ther, that I may chase the skulking Wampa- 
noag to his hiding — ” 

“ Hot-headed boy ! Thy longue is too much given to 
levity,” said Ruth, who had not only resumed her seat, but 
also the light employment that had been interrupted by the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 147 

blast at the gate, with a calmness of mien that did not fail 
in some degree to reassure her maidens. “ Instead of che- 
rishing the lessons of peace that are taught thee, thy unruly 
thoughts arc ever bent on strife.” 

“ Is there harm in wishing to be armed with a weapon 
suited to my years, that I may do service in beating down 
the power of our enemies ; and perhaps aid something, too, 
in affording security to my mother ?” 

“ Thy mother hath no fears,” returned the matron, gravely, 
while grateful affection prompted a kind but furtive glance 
towards the high-spirited though sometimes froward lad. 
“ Reason hath already taught me the folly of alarm, because 
one has knocked at our gate in the night-season. Lay 
aside thy arms, men ; you see that my husband no longer 
clings to the musket. Be certain that his eye will give us 
warning when there shall be danger at hand.” 

The unconcern of her husband was even more strikingly 
true than the simple language of his wife would appear to 
convey. Content had not only laid aside his weapon, but 
he had resumed his seat near the fire, with an air as calm, 
as assured, and it might have seemed to one watchfully 
observant, as understanding, as her own. Until now, the 
stout Dudley had remained leaning on his piece, immovable 
and apparently unconscious as a statue. But, following the 
injunctions of one ic was accustomed to obey, he placed 
the musket against the wall, with the care of a hunter, and 
then running a hand through his shaggy locks, as though 
the action might quicken ideas that were never remarkably 
active, he bluntly exclaimed — 

“ An armed hand is well in these forests, but an armed 
heel is not less wanting to him who would push a roadster 
from the Connecticut to the Wish-Ton-Wish, between a 
rising and a setting sun ! The stranger no longer journeys 
in the saddle, as is plain by the sign that his boot beareth 
no spur. When he worried, by dint of hard pricking, the 


148 THE WEPT, OF WISH-TON- WISH. 

miserable hack that proved food for the wolves, through the 
forest, he had better appointments. ^ I saw the bones of the 
animal no later than this day. They have been polished 
by fowls and frost, till the driven snow of the mountains is 
not whiter !” 

Meaning and uneasy, but hasty glances of the eye were 
exchanged between Content and Ruth, as Eben Dudley 
thus uttered the thoughts which had been suggested by the 
unexpected return of the stranger. 

“ Go you to the look-out at the western palisadoes,” said 
the latter ; “ and see if perchance the Indian may not be 
lurking near the dwellings, ashamed of his delay, and per- 
chance fearful of calling us to his admission. I cannot 
think that the child means to desert us, with no sign of 
kindness, and without leave-taking.” 

“ I will not take upon me to say, how much or how little 
of ceremony the youngster may fancy to be due to the mas- 
ter of the valley and his kin ; but if not gone already, the 
snow will not melt more quietly in the. thaw, than the lad 
will one day disappear. Reuben Ring, thou hast an eye for 
light or darkness ; come forth with me, that no sign escape 
us Should thy sister. Faith, make one of our party, it 
would not be easy for the red-skin to pass the clearing 
without a hail.” 

“ Go to,” hurriedly answered the female ; “ it is more 
womanly that I tarry to see to the wants of him who hath 
journeyed far and hard, since the rising of the sun. If the 
boy pass thy vigilance, wakeful Dudley, he will have little 
cause to fear that of others.” 

Though Faith so decidedly declined, to make one of the 
party, her brother complied without reluctance. The young 
men were about to quit the place together, when the latch, 
on which the hand of Dudley was already laid, rose quietly 
without aid from his finger, the door opened, and the object 
of their intended search glided past them, and took his cus- 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 149 


tomary position in one of the more retired corners of the 
room. There was so much of the ordinary noiseless man- 
ner of the young captive in this entrance, that for a moment 
they who witnessed the passage of his dark form across the 
apartment, were led to think the movement no more than 
the visit he was always permitted to make at that hour 
But recollection soon came, and with it not only the sus- 
picious circumstance of his disappearance, but the inexpli- 
cable manner of his admission within the gates. 

“The pickets must be looked to!” exclaimed Dudley, 
the instant a second look assured him that his eyes in truth 
beheld him who had been missing. “ The place that a 
stripling can scale might well, admit a host.” 

“ Truly,” said Content, “ this needeth explanation. Hath 
not the boy entered when the gate was opened for the 
stranger ? Here cometh one that may speak to the fact 1” 

“ Hr is so,” said the individual named, who re-entered from 
the inner room in season to hear the nature of the remark. 
“ I found this native child near thy gate, and took upon me 
the office of a Christian man to bid him welcome. Certain 
am I, that one, kind of heart and gently disposed, like the 
mistress of this family, will not turn him away in anger.” 

“ He is no stranger at our fire, or at our board,” said 
Ruth ; “ had it been otherwise thou would’st have done 
well.” 

Eben Dudley looked incredulous. His mind had been 
powerfully exercised that day with visions of the marvellous, 
and, of a certainty, there was some reason to distrust the 
manner in which the re-appearance of the youth had been 
made. 

“ It will be well to look to the fastenings,” he muttered, 
“ lest others, less easy to dispose of, should follow. Now 
that invisible agencies are at work in the Colony one may 
not sleep too soundly 1” 

“ Then go thou to the look-out, and keen the watch, till 


150 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

the clock shall strike the hour of midnight,” said the Pu- 
ritan, who littered the command in a manner to show that 
he was in truth moved by considerations far deeper than 
the vague apprehensions of his dependant. “ Ere sleep 
overcome thee another shall be ready for the relief.” 

Mark Ileathcote seldom spoke, but respectful silence per- 
mitted the lowest of his syllables to be audible. On the 
present occasion, when his voice was first heard, such a 
stillness came over all in presence, that he finished the sen- 
tence amid the nearly imperceptible breathings of the listen- 
ers. In this momentary but death-like quiet, there arose a 
blast from the conch at the gate, that might have seemed 
an echo of that which had so lately startled the already- 
excited inmates of the dwelling. At the repetition of sounds 
so unwonted all sprang to their feet, but no one spoke. 
Content cast a hurried and inquiring glance at his father, 
who in his turn had anxiously sought the eye of the-stran- 
ger. The latter stood firm and unmoved. One hand was 
clenched upon the back of the chair from which he had 
arisen, and the other grasped, perhaps unconsciously, the 
handle of one of those weapons which had attracted the 
attention of young Mark, and which still continued thrust 
through the broad leathern belt that girded his doublet. ' 

“ The sound is like that which one little used to deal 
with earthly instruments might raise !” ♦ muttered one of 
those whose minds had been prepared, by the narrative of 
Dudley, to believe in anything marvellous. 

“ Come from what quarter it may, it is a summons that 
must be answered,” returned Content. ■ “Dudley, thy 
musket ; this visit is so unwonted, that more than one hand 
should do the office of porter.” 

The borderer instantly complied, muttering’ between his 
teeth as he shook the. priming deeper into the barrel of his 
piece, “Your over-sca gallants are quick on the trail to- * 
night !” Then throwing the musket into the hollow of his 


THE WEPT OF WISH- TON-WISH. 151 


arm, he cast a look of discontent and resentment towards 
Faith Ring, and was about to open the door for the passage 
of Content, when another blast arose on the silence without. 
The second touch of the shell was firmer, longer, louder, 
and more true, than that by which it had just been preceded. 

“ One might fancy the conch was speaking in mockery,” 
observed Content, looking with meaning towards their guest. 
“ Never did sound more resemble sound than these we have 
just heard, and those thou drew from the shell when asking 
admission.” 

A sudden light appeared to break in upon the intelligence 
of the stranger. Advancing more into the circle, rather 
with the freedom of long familiarity than with the diffidence 
of a newly-arrived guest, he motioned for silence as he said — 

“ Let none move, but this stout woodsman, the young cap- 
tain, and myself. We will go forth, and doubt not that the 
safety of those within shall be regarded.” 

Notwithstanding the singularity of this proposal, as it 
appeared to excite neither surprise nor opposition in the 
Puritan or his son, the rest of the family offered no objec- 
tion. The stranger had no sooner spoken, than he advanced 
near to the torch, and looked closely into the condition of 
his pistols. Then turning to old Mark, he continued in an 
under tone — 

“ Peradventure there will be more worldly strife than any 
which can flow from the agencies that stir up the unquiet 
spirits of the Colonies. In such an extremity, it may be 
well to observe a soldier’s caution.” 

“ I like not this mockery of sound,” returned the Puritan ; 
“it argueth a taunting and fiend-like temper. We have, of 
lat^e, had in this Colony tragical instances of Avhat the .dis- 
appointed malice of Azazel can attempt ; and it would be 
vain to hope that the evil agencies are not vexed with the 
sight of my Bethel.” 

Tliough the stranger listened to the words of his host 


152 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


with respect, it was plain that his thoughts dwelt on dangers 
of a different character. The member that still rested on 
the handle of his weapon, was clenched with greater firm- 
ness ; and a grim, though a melancholy expression was 
seated about a mouth, that was compressed in a manner to 
denote the physical, rather than the spiritual resolution of 
the man, He made a sign to the two companions he had 
chosen, and led the way to the court. 

By this time, the shades of night had , materially thick- 
ened, and, although the hour was still early, a darkness had 
come over the valley that rendered it difficult to distinguish 
objects at any distance from the eye. The obscurity made 
it necessary that they who now issued from the door of the 
dwelling, should advance with caution, lest, ere properly ad- 
monished of its presence, tl>eir persons should be exposed 
to some lurking danger. When the three, however, were 
safely established behind the thick curtain of plank and 
earth that covered and commanded the entrance, and where 
their persons, fi*om the shoulders downwards, were completely 
protected alike from shot and arrow. Content demanded to 
know, who applied at his gates for admission at an hour 
when they were habitually closed for the night. Instead of 
receiving, as before, a ready answer, the silence was so pro- 
found, that his own words were very distinctly heard 
repeated, as was not uncommon at that quiet hour, among 
the recesses of the neighboring woods. 

“ Come it from Devil, or come it from man, here is treach- 
ery !” whispered the stranger after a fitting pause. “ Arti- 
fice must be met by artifice ; but thou art much abler to 
advise against the wiles of the forest, than one trained, as I 
have been, in the less cunning deceptions of Christian war- 
fare.” 

“ What think’st, Dudley ?” asked Content — “ Will it be 
well to sally, or shall we wait another signal from the conch ?” 

“ Much dependeth on the quality of the guests expected,” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 153 

returned he of whom counsel was asked. “ As for the brag- 
gart gallants, that are over-valiant among the maidens, and 
heavy of heart when they think the screech of the jay an 
Indian whoop, I care not if ye beat the pickets to the earth, 
and call upon them to enter on the gallop. I know the 
manner to send them to the upper story of the hlotjk, quicker 
than the cluck of the turkey can muster its young ; but ” 

“ ’Tis well to be discreet in language, in a moment of 
such serious uncertainty !” interrupted the stranger. “ We 
look for no gallants of the kind.” 

“Then will I give you a conceit that shall know the 
reason of the music of yon conch. Go ye two back into the 
house, making much conversation by the way, in order that 
any without may hear. When ye have entered, it shall be 
my task to find such a post nigh the gate, that none shall 
knock again, and no porter be at hand to question them in 
the matter of their errand.” 

“ This soundeth better,” said Content ; “ and that it may 
be done with all safety, some others of the young men, who 
are accustomed to this species of artifice, shall issue by the 
secret door and lie in wait behind the dwellings, in order 
that support shall not be wanting in case of violence. What- 
ever else thou dost, Dudley, remember that thou dost not 
undo the fastenings of the postern.” 

“ Look to the support,” returned the woodsman ; “ should 
it be keen-eyed Reuben Ring, I shall feel none the less cer- 
tain that good aid is at my back. The whole of that family 
are quick of wit and ready of invention, unless it may be 
the wight who hath got the form without the reason of a 
man.” 

“ Tliou shalt have Reuben, and none other of his kin,” 
said Content. “ Be well advised of the fastenings, and so I 
wish thee all fitting success, in a deception that cannot be 
sinful, since it aims only at our safety.” 

With this injunction. Content and the stranger left Dudley 
1 * 


lot THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - Wl S H . 

to the practice of his own devices, the former observing the 
precaution to speak aloud while returning, in order that any 
listeners without might he led to suppose the whole party 
had retired from the search, satisfied of its fruitlessncss. 

In the meantime, the youth left nigh the postern set 
about the .accomplishment of the task he had undertaken, 
in sober earnestf* Instead of descending in a direct line to 
the palisadoes, he also ascended, and made a circuit among 
the out-buildings on the margin of the acclivity. Then 
bending so low as to blend his form* with objects on the 
snow, he gained an angle of the palisadoes, at a point remote 
from the spot he intended to watch, and, as he hoped, aided 
by the darkness of the hour and the shadows of the hill, 
completely protected from observation. When beneath the 
palisadoes, the sentinel cbouched to the earth, creeping with 
extreme caution along the timber which bound their lower 
ends, until he found himself arrived at a species of sentry- 
box, that was erected for the very purpose to which he now 
intended it should be applied. Once within the cover of 
this little recess, the sturdy woodsman bestowed his large 
frame with as much attention to comfort and security as 
the circumstances would permit. Here he prepared to pass 
many weary minutes, before there should be further need 
of his services. 

The reader will find no difficulty in believing that one of 
opinions like those of the borderer, did not enter on his 
silent watch without much distrust of the character of the 
guests that he might be called upon to receive. Enough 
has been shown to prove that the suspicion uppermost in his 
mind was, that the unwelcome agents of the government 
had returned on the heels of the stranger. But, notwith- 
standing the seeming probability of this opinion, there 
were secret misgivings of the earthly origin of the two last 
windings of the shell. All the legends, and all the most 
credited evidence in cases of prestigious agency, as it had 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 155 


been exhibited in the colonies of New-England, went to 
show the malignant pleasure the Evil Spirits found, in 
indulging their wicked mockeries, or in otherwise torment- 
ing those who placed their support on a faith that was 
believed to be so repugnant to their own ungrateful and 
abandoned natures. Under the impressions naturally excit- 
ed by the communication he had held with the traveller in 
the mountains, Eben Dudley found his mind equally divided 
between the expectation of seeing, at each moment, one of 
the men whom he had induced to quit the valley so uncere- 
moniously, returning to obtain surreptitiously admission 
within the gate, or of being made an unwilling witness of 
some wicked manifestation of that power which was tempo- 
rarily committed to the invisibles. In both of these expec- 
tations, however, he was fated to be disappointed. Not- 
withstanding the strong spiritual bias of the opinions of the 
credulous sentinel, there was too much of the dross of tem- 
poral things in his composition to elevate him altogether 
above the weakness of humanity. A mind so encumbered 
began to weary with its own contemplations ; and, as it 
grew feeble with its extraordinary efforts, the dominion of 
matter gradually resumed its sway. Thought, instead of 
being clear and active, as the emergency would have seemed 
to require, began to grow misty. Once or twice the bor- 
derer half arose, and appeared to look about him with 
observation ; and then as his large frame fell heavily back 
into its former semi-recumbent attitude, he grew tranquil and 
stationary. This movement was several times repeated, at 
intervals of increasing length, till, at the end of an hour, 
forgetting alike the hunt, the troopers, and the myst^^rious 
agents of evil, the young man yielded to the fatigue of the 
day. The tall oaks of the adjoining forest stood not more 
immovable in the quiet of the tranquil hour, than his frame 
now leaned against the side of its narrow habitation. 

How much time was thus lost in inactivity, Eben Dudley 


156 T H E W E r T OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

could never precisely tell. He always stoutly maintained it 
could not have been long, since his watch was not disturbed 
by the smallest of those sounds from the woods, which 
sometimes occur in deep night, and which may be termed 
the breathing of the forest in its slumbers. His first distinct 
recollection, was that of feeling a hand grasped with the 
'power of a giant. Springing to his feet, the young man 
eagerly stretched forth an arm, saying as he did so, in words 
sufiiciently confused — 

“ If the buck hath fallen by a shot in the head, I grant 
him to be thine, Reuben Ring ; but if struck in limb or 
body, I claim the venison for a surer hand.” 

“ Truly, a very just division of the spoil,” returned one in 
an under tone, and speaking as if sounds too loud might be 
dangerous. “ Thou givest the head of the deer for a target 
to Reuben Ring, and keepest the rest of the creature to 
thine own uses.” 

“ Who hath sent thee, at this hour, to the postern ? Dost 
not know that there are thought to be strangers outlying in 
the fields ?” 

“ I know that there are some, who are not strangers, in- 
lying on their watch !” said Faith Ring. “ What shame 
would come upon thee, Dudley, did the Captain, and they 
who have been so strongly exercised in prayer within, but sus- 
pect how little care thou hast had of their safety, the while !” 

“ Have they come to harm ! If the Captain hath held 
them to spiritual movements, I hope that he will allow that 
nothing earthly hath passed this postern to disturb the exer- 
cise. As I hope to be dealt honestly by, in all matters of 
character, I have not once quitted the gate since the watch 
was set.” 

“ Else would’st thou be the famousest sleep-walker in the 
Connecticut Colony ! Why, drowsy one, conch cannot raise 
a louder blast than that thou soundest, when eyes are fairly . 
shut in sleep. This may be watching, according to thy mean- 


THE WEPT OE WISH-TON-WISJI. 157 

ing of the word ; but infant in its cradle is not halt so igno- 
rant of that which passeth around it, as thou hast been.” 

“ I think, Faith Ring, that thou hast gotten to be much 
given to backbiting, and evil saying against friends, since 
the visit of the gallants from over sea.” 

“ Out upon gallants from over sea, and thee too, man ! i 
am not a girl to be flouted with bold speech from one who 
doth not know whether he be sleeping or waking. I tell 
thee, thy good name would be lost in the family, did it 
come to the ears of the Captain, and more particularly to 
the knowledge of that soldier stranger, up in the dwelling, 
of whom even the Madam maketh so great ceremony, that 
thou hast been watching with a tuneful nose, an open mouth, 
and a sealed eye.” 

“ If any but thee had’st said this slander of me, girl, it 
would go nigh to raise hot speech between us ! Thy bro- 
ther, Reuben Ring, knows better than to stir my temper by 
such falsity of accusation.” 

“ Thou dealest so generously by him, that he is prone to 
forget thy misdeeds. Truly he hath the head of the buck, 
while thou contentest thyself with the offals and all the less 
worthy parts ! Go to, Dudley ; thou wast in a heavy dream 
when I caused thee to awake.” 

“ A pretty time have we fallen upon, when petticoats are 
used instead of beards and strong-armed men, to go the 
rounds of the sentinels, and to say who sleepeth and who 
is watchful ! What hath brought thee so far from the exer- 
cises and so nigh the gates. Mistress Faith, now that there is 
no over-sea gallant to soothe thy ears with lying speech and 
light declarations.” 

“ If speech not to be credited is that I seek,” returned the 
girl, “ truly the errand hath not been without its reward. 
What brought me hither, sooth ! Why, the Madam hath 
need of articles from the outer buttery — and — aye — and my 
ears led me to the postern. Thou knowest, musical Dudley, 


‘158 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

that I have had occasion to hearken to thy watchful notes 
before this night. But my time is too useful to be wasted in 
idleness ; thou art now awake, and may thank her who hath 
done thee a good turn with no wish to boast of it, that one 
of a black beard is not the laughing-stock of all the youths 
in the family. If thou keepest thine own counsel, the Captain 
may yet praise thee for a vigilant sentinel ; though Heaven 
forgive him the wrong he will do the truth !” 

“Perhaps a little anger at unjust suspicions may have 
prompted more than the matter needed. Faith, when I taxed 
thee with the love of backbiting, and I do now recall that 
word ; though I will ever deny that aught more than some 
wandering recollection concerning the hunt of this day 
hath come over my thoughts, and perhaps made me even 
forgetful that it was needful to be silent at the postern ; 
and, therefore, on the truth of a Christian man, I do forgive 
thee, the ” 

But Faith was already out of sight and out of hearing. 
Dudley himself, who began to have certain prickings of con- 
science concerning the ingratitude he had manifested to one 
who had taken so much interest in his reputation, now be- 
thought him seriously of that which remained to be done.' 
He had much reason to suspect that there was less of the 
night before him than he had at first believed, and he 
became in consequence more sensible of the necessity of 
making some report of the events of his watch. Accord- 
ingly, he cast a scrutinizing glance around in order to make 
sure that the facts should not contradict his testimony, and 
then, first examining the fastenings of the postern, he 
mounted the hill and presented himself before the family. 
The members of the latter, having in truth passed most of 
the long interval of his absence in spiritual exercises and in 
religious conversation, were not so sensible of his delay in 
reporting, as they might otherwise have been. 

“ What tidings dost thou bring us from without ? ” said 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O X - W I S II . 159 


Content, so soon as the self-relieved sentinel appeared. 
“Hast seen any, or hast heard that which is suspicious?” 

Ere Dudley would answer, his eye did not fail to study 
the half-malicious expression of the countenance of her who 
was busy in some domestic toil, directly opposite to the 
place where he stood. But reading there no more than a 
glance of playful though smothered irony, he was encouraged 
to proceed in his report. 

“ The watch has been quiet,” was the answer ; “ and there 
is little cause to keep the sleepers longer from their beds. 
Some vigilant eyes, like those of Reuben Ring and my own, 
had better be open until the itiorning ; further than that, 
there is no reason to be wakeful.” 

Perhaps the borderer would have dwelt more at large on 
his own readiness to pass the remainder of the hours of 
rest in attending to the security of those who slept, had not 
another wicked glance from the dark, laughing eye of her 
who stood so favorably placed to observe his countenance, 
admonished him of the prudence of being modest in his 
professions. 

“ This alarm hath then happily passed away,” said the 
Puritan, rising. “We will now go to our pillows in thank- 
fulness and peace. Thy service shall not be forgotten, Dud- 
ley ; for thou hast exposed thyself to seeming danger, at 
least, in our behalf.” 

“ That hath he !” half-whispered Faith ; “ and sure am I? 
that we maidens will not forget his readiness to lose the 
sweets of sleep in order that the feeble may not come to 
harm.” 

“Speak not of the trifle,” hurriedly returned the other. 
“ There has been some deception in the sound, for it is now 
my opinion, except to summon us to the gate, that this 
stranger might enter — the conch hath not been touched at 
all to-night.” 

“ Then is it a deception which is repeated ! ” exclaimed 




160 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 


Content, rising from his cnair as a faint and broken blast 
from the shell, likp that which had first announced their 
visitor, again struggled among the buildings, until it reached 
every ear in the dwelling. 

“ Here is warning as mysterious as it may prove porten- 
tous!” said old Mark Heathcote, when the surprise, not to 
say the consternation of the moment, had subsided. “ Hast 
seen nothing that might justify this ?” 

Eben Dudley, like most of the auditors, w^as too much 
confounded to reply. All seemed to attend anxiously for 
the second and more powerful blast, which was to com- 
plete the imitation of the stranger’s smnmons. It was not 
necessary to wait long ; for in a time as near as might be 
to that which had intervened between the two first peals of 
the horn, followed another, and in a note so true again, as 
to give it the semblance of an echo. 


( 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 161 


CHAPTER XI. 


“I will watch to-night* 
Perchance ’twill walk again.” 


Hamlet. 


“May not this be a warning given in mercy?” the Puri- 
tan, at all times disposed to yield credit to supernatural 
manifestations of the care of Providence, demanded with a 
solemnity that did not fail to produce its impression on 
most of his auditors. “ The history of our Colonies is full 
of the evidences of these merciful interpositions.” 

“We will thus consider it,” returned the stranger, to 
whom the question seemed more particularly addressed. 
“The first measure shall he to seek out the danger to which 
it points. Let the youth they call Dudley, give me the aid 
of his powerful frame and manly courage, then trust the 
discovery of the meaning of these frequent speakings of the 
conch to me.” 

“ Surely, Submission, thou wilt not again be first to go 
forth ! ” exclaimed Mark, in a surprise that was equally 
manifested by Content and Ruth, the latter of whom pressed 
her little image to her side as though the hare proposal 
presented a powerful picture of supernatural danger. “ ’Twill 
be well to think maturely on the step, ere thou runnest the 
hazard of such an adventure.” 

“ Better it should he I,” said Content, “ who am ac- 
customed to forest signs, and all the usual testimonials of the 
presence of those who may wish us harm.” 

“ No,” said he, who for the first time had been called 
‘Submission,’ a name that savored of the religious enthush 


162 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

asm of the times, and which might have been adopted as an 
open avowal of his readiness to bow beneath some peculiar 
dispensation of Providence. “ This service shall be mine. 
Thou art both husband and father ; and many are there who 
look to thy safety as to their rock of earthly support and 

comfoyt, while neither kindred, nor but we will not speak 

of things foreign to our purpose ! Tliou knowest, Mark 
Heathcote, that peril and I are no strangers. There is little 
need to bid me be prudent. Come, bold woodsman; 
shoulder thy musket, and be ready to do credit to thy man- 
hood should there be reason to prove it.” 

“ And why not Reuben Ring ? ” said a hurried female 
voice, that all knew to proceed from the lips of the sister 
of the youth just named. “ He is quick of eye and ready 
of hand in trials like these ; would it not be well to succor 
thy party with such aid ? ” 

“ Peace, girl,” meekly observed Ruth. “ This matter is- 
already in the ordering of one used to command ; there 
needeth no counsel from thy short experience.” 

Faith shrank back, abashed ; the flush which had mantled 
over her brown cheek deepening to a tint like that of 
blood. 

Submission (we use the appellation in the absence of all 
others) fastened a searching glance for a single moment 
bn the countenance of the girl; and then, as if his in- 
tention had not been diverted from the principal subject 
in hand, he rejoined coolly — 

“ We go as scouters and observers of that which may 
hereafter call for the ready assistance of this youth ; but 
numbers would expose us to observation, without adding 
to our usefulness — and yet,” he added, arresting his foot- 
step, which was already turned towards the door, and look- 
ing earnestly and long at the Indian boy, “ perhaps there 
standeth one who might much enlighten us, would he but 
speak !” 


THE WEPT OF WlSH-TON-WIS|I. 163 

This remark afew every eye on the person of the cap- 
tive. The lad stood the scrutiny with the undismayed 
and immovable composure of his race. But though his 
eye met the looks of those around him haughtily and in 
pride, it was not gleaming with any of that stern defi- 
ance which had so often been known to glitter in his 
glances, when he had reason to think that his fortunes 
or his person was the subject of the peculiar observation 
of those with whom he dwelt. On the contrary, the ex- 
pression of his dark visage was rather that of amity than 
of hatred, and there was a moment when the look he cast 
upon Ruth and her offspring was visibly touched with 
a feeling of concern. A glance, charged with such a 
meaning, could not escape the quick-sighted vigilance of 
a mother. 

“ The child hath proved himself worthy to be trusted,” 
she said ; “ and in the name of him who looketh into and 
knoweth all hearts, let him once more go forth.” 

Her lips became sealed, for again the conch announced 
the seeming impatience of those without to be admitted. 
The full tones of the shell thrilled on the nerves of the lis- 
teners, as though they proclaimed the coming of some great 
and fearful judgment. 

In the midst of these often-repeated and mysterious 
sounds. Submission alone seemed calm and unmoved. Turn- 
ing his look from the countenance of the boy, whose head 
had dropped upon his breast as the last notes of the conch 
rang among the buildings, he motioned hurriedly to Dud- 
ley to follow and left the place. 

There w^as, in good truth, that in the secluded situation 
of the valley, the darkness of the hour, and the nature of 
the several interruptions, which might readily awaken deep 
concern in the breasts of men as firm even as those who 
now issued into the open air, in quest of the solution of 
doubts that were becoming intensely painful. The stranger, 


164 1;H E WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

or Submission, as we may in future have frequent occasion 
to call him, led the way in silence to a point of the emi- 
nence, without the. buildings, where the eye might overlook 
the palisadoes that hedged the sides of the acclivity, and 
command a view beyond of all that the dusky and imper- 
fect light would reveal. 

It was a scene that required familiarity with a border life 
to be looked on at any moment with indifference. The 
broad, nearly interminable, and seemingly trackless forest lay 
about them, bounding the view to the narrow limits of the 
valley, as though it were some straitened oasis amidst an 
ocean of wilderness. Within the boundaries of the cleared 
land objects were less indistinct, though even those nearest 
and most known were now seen only in the confused and 
gloomy outlines of night. 

Across this dim prospect Submission and his companion 
gazed long and cautiously. 

“ There is naught but motionless stumps, and fences 
loaded with snow,” said the former, when his eye had 
roamed over the whole circuit of the view which lay on the 
side of the valley where they stood. “We must go forth, 
that we may look nearer to the fields.” 

“ This way, then, is the postern,” said Dudley, observing 
that the other took a direction opposite to that which led 
to the gate. But a gesture of authority induced him at the 
next instant to restrain his voice, and to follow whither his 
companion chose to lead the way. 

The stranger made a circuit of half the hill ere he de- 
scended to the palisadoes, at a point where lay long and 
massive piles of wood, which had been collected for the 
fuel of the family. This spot was one that overlooked the 
steepest acclivity of the eminence, which was in itself, just 
there, so difficult of ascent, as to render the provision of the 
pickets far less necessary than in its more even faces. Still 
no useful precaution for the security of the family had been 




THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 165 

neglected, even at this strong point of the works. The 
piles of wood were laid at such a distance from the pickets 
as to afford no facilities for scaling them,^ while^n the other 
hand, they formed platforms and hreast-works that might 
have greatly added to the safety of those who should be re- 
quired to defend this portion of the fortress. Taking his 
way directly amid the parallel piles, the stranger descended 
rapidly through the whole of their mazes, until he had 
reached the open space between the outer of the rows and 
the palisadoes, a space that was warily left too wide to be 
passed by the leap of man. 

“ ’Tis many a day since foot of mine has been in this 
spot,” said Eben Dudley, feeling his way along a path that 
his companion threaded without any apparent hesitation. 
“ My own hand laid this outer pile some winters since, and 
certain am I, that from that hour to this, man hath not 
touched a billet of the wood. And yet, for one who hath 
come from over sea, it would appear that thou hast no great 
difficulty in making way among the narrow lanes !” 

“ He that hath sight may well choose between air and 
beechen logs,” returned the other, stopping at the palisadoes, 
and in a place that was concealed from any prying eyes 
within the works, by triple and quadruple barriers of wood. 
Feeling in his girdle, he then dijew forth something which 
Dudley was not long in discovering to be a key. While the 
latter, aided by the little light that fell from the heavens, 
was endeavoring to make the most of his eyes. Submission 
applied the instrument to a lock that was artfully sunk in 
one of the timbers, at the height of a man’s breast from the 
ground, and giving a couple of vigorous turns, a piece of 
the palisado, some half a fathom long, yielded on a power- 
ful hinge below, and falling, made an opening sufficiently 
large for the passage of a human body. 

“ Here is a sally-port ready provided for our sortie,” the 
stranger coolly observed, motioning to the other to precede 


166 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

him. When Dudley had passed his companion followed, 
and the opening was then carefully closed and locked. 

“ Now is all fast again, and we are in the fields without 
raising alarm to any of mortal birth, at least,” continued 
the guide, thrusting a hand into the folds of his doublet, as 
if to feel for a weapon, and preparing to . descend the difli- 
cult declivity which still lay between him and the base of 
the hill. Eben Dudley hesitated to follow. The interview 
with the traveller in the mountains occurred to his heated 
imagination, and the visions of a prestigious agency revived 
with all their original force. The whole manner and the 
mysterious character of his companion was little likely to 
re-assure a mind disturbed with such images. 

“ There is a rumor going in the Colony,” muttered the 
borderer, “ that the invisibles are permitted for a time to 
work their evil ; and it may well happen that some of their 
ungodly members shall journey to the Wish-Ton- Wish, in 
lack of better employment.” 

“ Thou sayest truly,” replied the stranger ; “ but the power 
that allows of their wicked torments may have seen fit to 
provide a;n agent of his own to defeat their subtleties. W^’e 
will now draw nearer to the gate, in order that an eye may 
be kept on their malicious designs.” 

Submission spoke with gravity, and not without a certain 
manner of solemnity. Dudley yietded, though with a divided 
and a disturbed mind, to his suggestion. . Still he followed 
in the footsteps of the stranger, with a caution that might 
well have eluded the vigilance of any agency short of that 
which drew its means of information from sources deeper 
than any of human power. 

When the two watchers had found a secret and suitable 
place, not far from the postern, they disposed themselves in 
silence to await the result. The out-buildings lay in deep 
quiet, not a sound of any sort arising from all of the many 
tenants they were known to contain. The lines of ragged 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 167 

fences ; the blackened stumps, capped with little pyramids 
of snow ; the taller and sometimes suspicious-looking stubs ; 
an insulated tree, and finally the broad border of forest — 
were alike motionless, gloomy, and clothed in the doubtful 
forms of night. Still, the space around the well secured 
and trebly-barred postern was vacant. A sheet of spotless 
snow served as a background, that would have been sure 
to betray the presence of any object passing over its surface. 
Even the conch might be seen suspended from one of the 
timbers, as mute and inoffensive as the hour when it had 
been washed by the waves on the sands of the sea- 
shore. 

“ Here will we watch for the coming of the stranger, be 
he commissioned by the powers of air, or be he one sent 
on an errand of earth,” whispered Submission, preparing 
his arms for immediate use, and disposing of his person, at 
the same time, in a manner most convenient to endure the 
weariness of a patient watch. 

“ I would my mind were at ease on the question of right- 
doing in dealing harm to one who disturbs the quiet of a 
border family,” said Dudley, in a tone suflSciently repressed 
for caution ; “ it may be found prudent to strike the first 
blow, should one like an over-sea gallant, after all, be 
inclined to trouble us at this hour.” 

“ In that strait, thou wilt do well to give little heed to 
the order of the offences,” gloomily returned the other. 
“ Should another messenger of England appear ” 

He paused, for a note of the conch was heard rising gra- 
dually on the air, until the whole of the wide valley was 
filled with its rich and melancholy sound. 

“ Lip of man is not at the shell !” exclaimed the stranger, 
who like Dudley had made a forward movement towards 
the postern, the instant the blast reached his ear, and who 
like Dudley recoiled in an amazement that even his prac- 
tised self-command could not conceal, as he undeniably per- 


168 THE WEPT OF WISH*-TON“WISH. 

ceived the truth of that his speech affirmed. “ This exceed- 
eth all former instances of marvellous visitations !” 

“ It is vain to pretend to raise the feeble nature of man 
to the level of things coming from the invisible world,” 
returned the woodsman at his side. “ In such a strait, it is 
seemly that sinful men should withdraw to the dwellings, 
where we may sustain our feebleness by the spiritual striv- 
ings of the Captain.” 

To this discreet proposal the stranger raised no objection. 
Without taking the time necessary to effect their retreat 
with the precaution that had been observed in their advance, 
the two adventurers quickly found themselves at the secret 
entrance through which they had so lately issued. 

“ Enter,” said the stranger, lowering the piece of the 
palisado for the passage of his companion. “ Enter of a 
Heaven’s sake ! for it is truly meet that we assemble all our 
spiritual succor.” 

Dudley was in the act of complying, when a dark line, 
accompanied by a low rushing sound, cut the air between 
his head and that of his companion. At the next instant, a 
flint-headed arrow quivered in the timber. 

“ The heathen !” shouted the borderer, recovering all his 
manhood as the familiar danger became apparent, and 
throwing back a stream of fire in the direction from which 
the treacherous missile had come. “ To the palisadoes, 
men ! the bloody heathen is upon us !” 

“ The heathen !” echoed the stranger, in a deep, steady, 
commanding voice, that had evidently often raised the 
warning in seenes of even greater emergency, and levelling 
a pistol, which brought a dark form that was gliding across 
the snow to one knee, The heathen ! the bloody heathen 
is upon us !” 

As if both assailants and assailed paused, one moment of 
profound stillness succeeded this fierce interruption of the 
quiet of the night. Then the cries of the two ad^nturers 


THE AV E P T OF AV I S H - T O N.- W I S H . 169 


were answered by a burst of yells from a wide circle, that 
nearly environed the hill. At the same moment each dark 
object in the fields gave up a human form. The shouts 
Avere folloAved by a cloud of arroAvs, that rendered further 
delay Avithoiit the cover of the palisadpes eminently hazard-* 
ous. Dudley entered ; but the passage of the stranger 
Avould have been cut off by a leaping, Avhooping band that 
pressed fiercely on his rear, had not a broad sheet of flame, 
glancing from the hill directly in their SAvarthy and grim 
countenances, driven the assailants back upon their own 
footsteps. In another moment, the bolts of the lock Avere 
passed, and the tAvo fugitives Avere in safety behind the pon- 
derous piles of wood. 




0 


170 THE wEpt of wish-toe - wish. 


CHAPTER XIL 

“ There need no ghost, my lord, come from the grave 
To tell us this.” / 

Hamlet. 

Although the minds of most, if not of all the inmates of 
the Wish-Ton- Wish, had been so powerfully exercised that 
night with a belief that the powers of the invisible world 
were about to be let loose upon them, the danger had now 
presented itself in a shape too palpable to admit of further 
doubt. The cry of “the heathen” had been raised from 
every lip ; even the daughter and eleve of Ruth repeated it, 
as they fled wailing through the buildings ; and, for a mo- 
ment, terror and surprise appeared to involve the assailed 
in inextricable confusion. But the promptitude of the young 
men in rushing to the rescue, with the steadiness of Content, 
soon restored order. Even the females assumed at least the 
semblance of Composure^ the family having been too long 
trained to meet the exigencies of such an emergency to be 
thrown entirely off its guard, for more than the first and the 
most appalling moments of the alarm. 

The effect of the sudden repulse was such as all experience 
had taught the Colonists to expect, in their Indian warfare. 
The uproar of the onset ceased as abruptly as it had com- 
menced, and a calmness so tranquil, and a stillness so pro- 
found, succeeded, that one who had for the first time wit- 
nessed such a scene, might readily have fancied it the effects 
of some ydld and fearful illusion. 

During these moments of general and deep silence, the 
two adventurers, whose retreat had probably hastened the 


THE WEPT OP W 1 S H - T 0 N - W 1 S H . lYl 

assault by offering the temptation of an easy passage within 
the works, left the cover of the piles of wood, and ascended 
the hill to the place where Dudley knew Content was to be 
posted, in the event of a summons to the defences. 

“ Unless much inquiry hath deceived me in the nature of 
the heathen’s craftiness,” said the stranger, “ we shall have 
breathing-time ere the onset be renewed. The experience 
of a soldier bids me say, that prudence now urges us to look 
into the number and position of our foes, that we may 
order our resistance with better understanding of their force.” 

“ In what manner of way may this be done ? Thou 
seest naught about us' but the quiet and the darkness of 
night. Speak of the number of our enemies we cannot, and 
sally forth we may not, without certain destruction to all who 
quit the palisadoes.” 

“ Thou forgettest that we have a hostage in the boy ; he 
may be turned to some advantage, if our power over his 
person be used with discretion.” 

“I doubt that we deceive ourselves with a hope that is 
vain,” returned Content, leading the way as he spoke, how- 
ever, towards the court which communicated with the prin- 
cipal dwelling. “ I have closely studied the eye of that lad, 
since his unaccountable entrance within the works, and 
little do I find there that should teach us to expect confi- 
dence. It will be happy if some secret understanding with 
those without has not aided him in passing the palisadoes, 
and that' he prove not a dangerous spy on our force and 
movements.” 

“ In regard to that he hath entered the dwelling without 
sound of conch or aid of postern, be not disturbed,” return- 
ed the stranger with composure. “Were it fitting, this 
mystery might be of easy explanation ; but it may truly 
need all our sagacity to discover whether he hath connexion 
with our foes ! The mind of a native does not give up its. 
secrets like the surface of a vanity-feeding mirror.” 


172 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

The stranger spoke like a man who wrapped a portion of 
his thoughts in reserve, and his companion listened as one 
who comprehended more than it might be seemly or discreet 
to betray. With this secret and yet equivocal understanding 
of each other’s meaning, they entered the dwelling, and 
soon found themselves in the presence of those they sought. 

The constant danger of their situation had compelled 
the family fo bring themselves within the habits of a metho- 
dical and severely-regulated order of defence. Duties were 
assigned, in the event of alarm, to the feeblest bodies and 
the faintest ■ hearts ; and during the moments which pre- 
ceded the visit of her husband, Ruth had been endeavoring to 
commit to her female subordinates the several necessary 
charges that usage, and more particularly the emergency of 
the hour, appeared so imperiously to require. 

“ Hasten, Charity, to the block,” she said ; “ and look 
into the condition of the buckets and the ladders, that 
should the heathen drive us to its shelter, provision of 
water, and means of retreat, be not wanting in our extre- 
mity ; and hie thee. Faith, into the upper apartments, to 
see that no lights may direct their murderous aim at any in 
the chambers. Thoughts come tardily, when the arrow or 
the bullet hath already taken its flight ! And now that the 
first assault is over, Mark, and we may hope to meet the 
wiles of the enemy by some prudence of our own, thou 
mayest go forth to thy father. It would have been tempting 
Providence too rashly, hadst thou rushed, unbidden and unin- 
formed, into the first hurry of the danger. Come hither, 
child, and receive the blessing and prayers of thy mother ; 
after which thou shalt, with better trust in Providence, place 
thy young person among the combatants, in the hope of 
victory. Remember that thou art now of an age to do 
justice to thy name and origin, and yet art thou of years too 
.tender to be foremost in speech, and far less in action, on 
such a night as this.” 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 


173 


A momentary flush, that only served to render tlie suc- 
ceeding paleness more obvious, passed across the brow of the 
mother. She stooped, and imprinted a kiss on the forehead 
of the -impatient boy, who scarcely waited to receive this 
act of tenderness, ere he hurried to place himself in the 
ranks of her defenders. 

“ And now,” said Ruth, slowly turning her eye from the 
door by which the lad had disappeared, and speaking with a 
sort of unnatural composure, “ and now we will look to the 
safety of those who can be of but little service, except as 
sentinels to sound the alarm. When thou art certain. Faith, 
that no neglected light is in the rooms above, take the 
children to the secret chamber ; thence they may look upou 
the flelds, without danger from any chance direction of the 
savages’ aim. Thou knowest. Faith, my frequent teaching 
in this matter; let no sounds of alarm nor frightful 
whoopings of the people without, cause thee to quit the 
spot ; since thou wilt there be safer even than in the block, 
against which many missiles will doubtless be driven, on 
account of its seeming air of strength. Timely notice shall 
be given of the ehange, should we seek its security. Thou 
wilt descend only should’ st thou see enemies scaling the 
palisadoes on the side which overhangs the stream ; since 
there have we the fewest eyes to watch their movements. 
Remember that on the side of the out-buildings and of the 
fields, our force is chiefly posted ; there can be less reason 
therefore that thou should’st expose thy lives by endeavoring 
to look to ocuriously into that which passeth in the fields. 
Go, my children ; and a heavenly Providence prove thy 
guardian !” 

Ruth stooped to kiss the cheek that her daughter offered 
to the salute. Tlie embrace was then given to the other 
child, who was in truth , scarcely less near her heart, being 
the orphan daughter of one who had been as a sister in her 
affections. But, unlike the kiss she had impressed on the 




1V4 THE WEPT OF WISH-TOK-WISH. 

forehead of Mark, the present embraces were hasty, and 
evidently awakened less intense emotion. She had com- 
mitted the boy to a known and positive danger, but, under 
the semblance of some usefulness, she sent the others to a 
place believed to be even less exposed, so long as the enemy 
could be kept without the works, than the citadel itself. 
Still, a feeling of deep and maternal tenderness came over 
her mind, as her daughter retired ; and yielding to its sud- 
den impulse, she recalled the girl to her side. 

“Thou wilt repeat the prayer for especial protection 
against the dangers of the wilderness,” she solemnly con- 
tinued. “ In thy asking, fail not to remember him to whom 
thou owest being, and who now exposeth life, that we may 
be safe. Thou knowest the Christian’s rock ; place thy faith 
on its foundation.” 

“ And they who seek to kill us,” demanded the well 
instructed child ; “ are they too of the number of those for 
whom he died ?” 

“ It may not be doubted, though the manner of the dis- 
pensation be so mysterious ! Barbarians in their habits, 
aud ruthless in their enmities, they are creatures of our 
nature, and equally objects of his care.” 

Flaxen locks, that half covered a forehead and face across: 
which ran the most delicate tracery of veins, added lustre to 
a skin as spotlessly fair as if the warm breezes of that lati- 
tude had never fanned the countenance of the girl. Through 
this maze of ringlets, the child turned her full, clear, blue 
eyes, bending her looks, in wonder and in fear, on the dark 
visage of the captive Indian youth, who at that moment was 
to her a subject of secret horror. Unconscious of the 
interest he excited, the lad stood calm, haughty, and seem- 
ingly unobservant, cautious to let no sign of weakness or of 
concern escape him, in this scene of womanly emotion. 

“Mother,” whispered the still wondering child; “may 
we not let him go into the forest ? I do not love to ” 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . ll5 

“ This is no time for speech. Go to thy hiding-place, my 
child, and remember both thy askings and the cautions I 
have named. Go, and heavenly care protect thy innocent 
head !’" 

Ruth again stooped, and bowing her face until the fea- 
tures were lost in the rich tresses of her daughter, a moment 
passed during which there was an eloquent silence. When 
she arose, a tear glistened on the cheek of the child. The 
latter had received the embrace more in apathy than in 
concern ; and now, when, led towards the upper rooms, she 
moved from the presence of her mother, it was with an eye 
that never bent its Hveted gaze from the features of the 
young Indian, until the intervening walls hid him entirely 
from her sight. 

“Thou hast been thoughtful and like thyself, my good 
Ruth,” said Content, who at that moment entered, and who 
rewarded the self-command of his wife by a look of the 
kindest approbation. “The youths have not been more 
prompt in meeting the foe at the stockades, than thy 
maidens in looking to their less hardy duties. All is again 
quiet without ; and we come, noA^ rather for consultation, 
than for any purposes of strife.” 

“ Then must we summon our father from his post at the 
artillery, in the block.” 

“ It is not needful,” interrupted the stranger. “ Timo 
presses, for this calm may be too shortly succeeded by 
a tempest that all our power shall not quell. Bring. forth 
the captive.” 

Content signed to the boy to approach, and when he was 
in reach of his hand, he placed him full before the stranger. 

“ I know not thy name, nor even that of thy people,” 
commenced the other, after a long pause in which he seemed 
to study deeply the countenance of the lad; “but certain am 
I, though a more wicked spirit may still be struggling for 
the mastery in thy wild mind, that nobleness of feeling is no 


176 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

stranger to thy bosom. Speak ; hast thou aught to impart 
concerning the danger that besets this family? I have 
learned much this night from thy manner, but to be clearly 
understood, it is now time that thou should’st speak in 
words.” 

The youth kept his eye fastened on that of the speaker, 
until the other had ended, and then he bent it slowly, but 
with searching observation, on the anxious countenance of 
.Ruth. It seemed as if he balanced between his pride and 
his sympathies. The latter prevailed ; for, conquering the 
deep reluctance of an Indian, he spoke openly, and for the 
first time since his captivity, in the language of the hated 
race. 

“ I hear the whoops of warriors,” was his calm answer. 
“ Have the ears of the pale men been shut ?” 

“ Thou hast spoken with the young men of thy tribe in 
the forest, and thou had’st knowledge of this onset ?” 

The youth made no reply, though the keen look of his 
interrogator was met steadily, and without fear. Perceiving 
that he had demanded more than would be answered, the 
stranger changed his mode of investigation, masking his 
inquiries with a little more of artifice. 

“It may not be that a great tribe is on the bloody path !” 
he said ; “ warriors would have walked over the timbers of 
the palisadoes like bending reeds ! ’Tis a Pequot, who 
hath broken faith with a Christian, and who is now abroad, 
prowling as a wolf in the night.” 

A sudden and wild expression gleamed over the swarthy 
features of the boy. His lips moved, and the words that 
issued from between them were uttered in the tones of 
biting scorn. Still he rather muttered than pronounced 
aloud — 

“ The Pequot is a dog !” 

“ It is as I had thought : the knaves are out of their 
villages, that the Yengeese may feed their squaws. But a 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 177 


Narragansett, or a Wampanoag, is a man ; he scorns to 
lurk in the darkness. Wlien he comes, the sun will light 
his path. The Pequot steals in silence, for he fears that the 
warriors will hear his tread.” 

It was not easy to detect any evidence that the captive 
listened, either to the commendation or the censure, with 
answering sympathy ; for marble is not colder than were 
the muscles of his unmoved countenance. 

The stranger studied the expression of his features in vain, 
and drawing so near as to lay his hand on the naked shoul- 
der of the lad, he added — “Boy, thou hast heard much 
moving matter concerriing the nature of our Christian faith, 
and thou hast been the subject of many a fervent asking ; it 
may not be that so much good seed hath been altogether 
scattered by the way-side ! Speak ; may I again trust 
■ thee ?” 

“Let my father look on the snow. The print of the moc- 
casin goes and comes.” 

“It is true. Thus far hast thou proved honest. But 
when the war-whoop shall be thrilling through thy young 
blood, the temptation to join the warriors may be too strong. 
Hast any gage, any pledge, in which we may find warranty 
for letting thee depart ?” 

The boy regarded his interrogator with a look that plainly 
denoted ignorance of his meaning. 

“I would know what thou canst leave with me, to show 
that our eyes shall again look upon thy face, when we 
have opened the gate for thy passage into the fields.” 

Still the gaze of the other was wondering and confused. 

“ When the white man goes upon the war path, and 
would put trust in his foe, he takes surety for his faith, by 
holding the life of one dear as a warranty of its truth. What 
can’st offer, that I may know thou wilt return from the 
errand on which I would fain send thee ?” 

“ The path Is open.” 

8 ^ 


1*78 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“ Open, but not certain to be used. Fear may cause thee 
to forget the way it leads.” 

The captive now understood the meaning of the other’s 
doubts, but, as if disdaining to reply, he bent his eyes aside, 
and stood iu one of those immovable attitudes which so 
often gave him the air of a piece of dark statuary. 

Content and his wife had listened to this short dialogue, 
in a manner to prove that they possessed some secret know- 
ledge, which lessened the wonder they might otherwise 
have felt, at witnessing so obvious proofs of a secret ac- 
quaintance between the speakers. Both, however, mani- 
fested unequivocal sighs of astonishment, when they first 
heard English sounds issuing from the lips of the boy. 
There was, at least, the semblance of hope in the mediation 
of one who had received, and who had appeared to acknow- 
ledge, so much kindness from herself ; and Ruth clung to the 
cheering expectation with the quickness of maternal care. 

“ Let the boy depart,” she said. “ I will be his hostage ; 
and should he prov-e false, there can be less to fear in his 
absence than in his presence.” 

The obvious truth of the latter assertion probably weighed 
more with the stranger than the unmeaning pledge of the 
woman. 

“There is reason in this,” he resumed. “Go, then, into 
the fields, and say to thy people that they have mistaken 
the path ; that, they are on, hath led them to the dwelling 
of a friend. Here are no Pequots, nor any of the . men of the 
Manhattoes ; but Christian Yengeese, who have long dealt 
with the Indian as one just man dealeth with another. Go, 
and when thy signal shall be heard at the gate, it shall be 
opened to thee for readmission.” 

Thus saying, the stranger motioned to the boy to follow, 
taking care as they left the room together, to instruct him 
in all such minor matters as might assist in effecting the 
pacific object of the mission on which he was employed. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


179 


A few minutes of doubt and of fearful suspense succeeded 
this experiment. The stranger, after seeing that egress was 
permitted to his messenger, had returned to the dwelling 
and rejoined his companions. He passed the moments in 
pacing the apartment, with the strides of one in whom 
powerful concern was strongly at work. At times, the 
sound of his heavy footstep ceased, and then all listened 
intently, in order to catch any sound that might instruct 
them in the nature of the scene that was passing without. 
In the midst of one of these pauses, a yell like that of 
savage delight arose in the fields. It was succeeded by the 
death-like and portentous calm which had rendered the 
time since the momentary attack even more alarming than 
when the danger had a positive and known character. But 
all the attention the most intense anxiety could now lend, 
furnished no additional clue to the movements of their foes. 
For many minutes the quiet of midnight reigned both with- 
in and without the defences. In the midst of this suspense 
the latch of the door was lifted, and their messenger ap- 
peared with that noiseless tread and collected mien which 
distinguished the people of his race. 

“Thou hast met the warriors of thy tribe?” hastily de- 
manded the stranger. 

“ The noise did not cheat the Yengeese. It was not a 
girl laughing in the woods.” 

“ And thou hast said to thy people, ‘ we are friends ? ’ ” 

“ The \^ords of my father were spoken.” 

“And heard — Were they loud enough to enter the ears 
of the young men ? ” 

The boy was silent. 

“Speak,” continued the stranger, elevating his form 
proudly, like one ready to breast a more severe shock. 
“ Thou hast men for thy listeners. Is the pipe of the 
savage filled ? AYill he smoke in peace, or holdeth he the 
tomahawk in a clenched hand ? ” 


1 80 T il E WEPT OF W I S H - T O N*- WISH. 

The countenance of the boy worked with a feeling that 
it was not usual for an Indian to betray. He bent his look 
with concern on the mild eyes of the anxious Ruth ; then 
drawing a hand slowly from beneath the light robe that 
partly covered his body, he cast at the feet of the stranger 
a bundle of arrows, wrapped in the glossy and striped skin 
ol the rattlesnake. 

“ This is a warning we may not misconceive ! ” said Con- 
tent, raising the Avell known emblem of ruthless hostilit}^ to 
the light, and exhibiting it before the eyes of his less-in- 
structed companion. “ Boy, what have the people of my 
race done, that thy warriors should seek their blood to this 
extremity ? ” 

When the boy had discharged his duty he moved aside, 
and appeared unwilling to observe the effect which - his 
message might produce on his companions. But thus 
questioned, all gentle feelings were near being forgotten in 
the sudden force of passion. A hasty glance at Ruth 
quelled the emotion, and he continued calm as ever, and silent* 

“ Boy,” repeated Content, “ I ask thee why thy people 
seek our blood ? ” 

The passage of the electric spark is not more subtle, nor 
is it scarcely more brilliant than was the gleam that shot 
into the dark eye of the Indian. The organ seemed to 
emit rays coruscant as the glance‘of the serpent. His form 
appeared to swell with the inward strivings of the spirit, and 
for a moment there was every appearance of a^ fierce and 
uncontrollable burst of ferocious passion. The conquest of 
feeling was, however, but momentary. He regained his 
self-command by a surprising effort of will, and advancing 
so near to him who had asked this bold question, as to lay 
a finger on his breast, the young savage haughtily said — 

“ See ! this world is very wide. There is -room on it for 
the panther and the deer. Why have the Yengeese and 
the red-men met ? ” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 181 


“We waste the precious moments in probing the stern 
nature of a heathen,” said the stranger. “ The object of his 
people is certain, and, with the aid of the Christian’s staff, 
we will beat back their power. Prudence requireth at our 
hands that the lad be secured ; after which, will we repair 
to the stockades and prove ourselves men.” 

Against this proposal no reasonable objection could be 
raised. Content was about to secure the person of his 
captive in a cellar, when a suggestion of his wife caused him 
to change his purpose. Notwithstanding the sudden and 
fierce mien of the youth, there had been such an intelligence 
created between them by looks of kindness and interest, 
that the mother was reluctant to abandon all hope of his 
aid. 

“ Miantonimoh ! ” she said, “ though others distrust thy 
purpose, I will have confidence. Come, then, with me ; and 
while I give thee promise of safety in thine own person, I 
ask at thy hands the office of a protector for my babes.” 

The boy made no reply ; but as he passively followed his 
conductress to the chambers, Ruth fancied she read assur- 
ance of his faith in the expression of his eloquent eye. 
At the same moment her husband and Submission left the 
house to take their stations at the palisadoes. 



182 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


CHAPTER XIH. 


“Thou art ray good youth : my page ; 

I’ll be thy master : walk with me ; speak freely.” 

Ctmbelinb. 


The apartment in which Ruth had directed the children 
to be placed was in the attic, and, as already stated, on the 
side of the building which faced the stream that ran at the 
foot of the hill. It had a single projecting window, through 
which there was a view of the forest and of the fields on 
that side of the valley. Small openings in its sides ad- 
mitted also of glimpses of the grounds which lay further in 
the rear. In addition to the covering of the roofs, and of 
the massive frame-work of the building, an interior parti- 
tion of timber protected the place against the entrance of 
most missiles then known in the warfare of the country. 
During the infancy of the children this- room had been 
their sleeping apartment; nor was it abandoned for that 
purpose until the additional outworks, which increased with 
time around the dwellings, had emboldened the family to 
trust themselves at night in situations more convenient, and 
which were believed to be no less equally secure against 
surprise. 

“I know thee to be one who feeleth the obligations of a 
warrior,” said Ruth, as she ushered her follower into the 
presence of the children. “ Thou wilt not deceive me ; the 
lives of these tender ones are in thy keeping. Look to 
them, Miantonimoh, and the Christian’s God will remember 
thee in thine own hour of necessity !” 

The boy made no reply, but in a gentle expression which 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 183 

was visible in his dark visage, the. mother endeavored to 
find the pledge she sought. Then, as the youth, with the 
delicacy of his race, moved aside in order that they who 
were bound to each other by ties so near might indulge 
their feelings without observation, Ruth again drew near her 
ofiTspring with all the tenderness of a mother beaming in her 
• eyes. 

“ Once more I bid thee not to look too curiously at the 
fearful strife that may arise in front of our habitation,” she 
said. “ The heathen is truly upon us, with bloody mind. 
Young as well as old must now show faith in the protection 
of our master, arid such courage as befitteth believers.” 

“And why is it, mother,” demanded her child, “that 
they seek to do us harm? Have we ever done evil to 
them ?” 

“ I may not say. He that hath made the earth, hath 
given it to us for our uses, and reason would seem to teach 
that if portions of its surface are vacant, he that needeth 
truly, may occupy.” 

“ The savage !” whispered the child, nestling still nearer 
to the bosom of her stooping parent. “ His eye glittereth 
like the star which hangs above the trees.” 

“ Peace, daughter ; his fierce nature broodeth over some 
fancied wrong !” 

“ Surely, we are here rightfully. I have heard my father 
say that when the Lord made me a present to his arms, our 
valley was a tangled forest, and that much toil only has 
made it as it is.” 

“ I hope that what we enjoy, we enjoy rightfully 1 And 
yet it seemeth that the savage is ready to deny our 
claims.” 

“ And where do these bloody enemies dwell ? Have 
they, too, valleys like this, and do the Christians break into 
them to shed blood in the night ?” 

“ They are of wild and fierce habits, Ruth, and little do 


184 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

they know of our manner of life. Woman is not cherished 
as among the people of thy father’s race ; for force of body 
is more regarded than kinder ties.” 

The little auditor shuddered, and when she buried her 
face deeper in the bosom of her parent, it was with a more 
quickened sense of maternal affection, and with a livelier 
view than her infant perception had ever yet known of the 
gentle charities of kindred. When she had spoken, the 
matron impressed the final kiss on the forehead of each of 
the children, and asking aloud that God might bless them, 
she turned to go to the performance of duties that called for 
the exhibition of very different qualities. Before quitting 
the room, however, she once more approached the boy, and 
holding the light before his steady eye, she said solemnly — 

“ I trust my babes to the keeping of a young warrior !” 

The look he returned was like the others, cold but not 
discouraging. A gaze of many moments elicited no reply ; 
and Ruth prepared to quit the place, troubled by uncertainty 
concerning the intentions of the guardian she left with 
the girls, while she still trusted that the many acts of kind- 
ness which she had shown him during his captivity, would 
not go without their reward. Her hand rested on the bolt 
of the door, in indecision. The moment was favorable to the 
character of the youth ; for she recalled the manner of his 
return that night, no less than his former acts of faith, and 
she was about to leave the passage for his egress open, 
when an uproar arose on the air which filled the valley with 
all the hideous cries and yells of a savage onset. Drawing 
the bolt, the startled woman descended, without further 
thought, and rushed to her post, with the hurry of one who 
saw only the necessity of exertion in another scene. 

“Stand to the timbers, Reuben Ring! Bear back the 
skulking murderers on their bloody followers ! The pikes ! 
Here, Dudley, is opening for thy valor. The Lord have 
mercy on the souls of the ignorant heathen 1” mingled with 


THE WEPT OF WISH- T O N - W I S I[ . 


185 


tlie reports of musketry, the whoops of the warriors, the 
whizzing of bullets and arrows, with all the other accompa- 
niments of such a contest, were the fearful sounds that 
saluted the senses of Euth as she issued into the court. The 
valley was occasionally lighted by the explosion of fire- 
arms, and then, at times, the horrible din prevailed in the 
gloom of deep darkness. Happily, in the midst of all this 
confusion and violen-ce, the young men of the valley were 
true to their duties. An alarming attempt to scale the 
stockade had already been repulsed, and the true character 
of two or three feints having been ascertained, the principal 
force of the garrison vJ^as now actively employed in resisting 
the main attack. 

“ In the name of Him who is with us in every danger !” 
exclaimed Euth, advancing to two figures that were so busily 
engaged in their own concerns, as not to heed her approach, 
“ tell me how goes the struggle ? Where are my husband 
and the boy ? Or has it pleased Providence that any of our 
people should be stricken ?” 

“It hath pleased the Devil,” returned Eben Dudley, 
somewhat irreverently for one of that chastened school, “to 
send an Indian arrow through jerkin and skin into this arm 
of mine ! Softly, Faith ; dost think, girl, that the covering 
of man is, like the coat of a sheep, from which the fleece 
may be plucked at will ? I am no moulting fowl, nor is this 
arrow a feather of my wing. The Lord forgive the rogue for 
the ill turn he hath done my flesh, say I, and amen like a 
Christian ! He will have occasion too for the mercy, seeing 
he hath nothing further to hope for in this world. How, 
Faith, I acknowledge the debt of thy kindness, and let there 
be no more cutting speech between us. Thy tongue often 
pricketh more sorely than the Indian’s arrow.” 

“ Whose fault is it that old acquaintance hath sometimes 
been overlooked in new convet-sations ? Thou knowest that, 
wooed by proper speech, no maiden in the Colony is wont 


186 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O X - W I S H . 


to render gentler answer. Dost feel uneasiness in thine 
arm, Dudley ?” 

“ ’Tis not tickling with a straw, to drive a flint-headed 
arrow to the bone ! I forgive thee the matter of too much 
discourse with the trooper, and all the side-cuts of thy over- 
ambling tongue, on conditions that ” 

“ Out upon thee, brawler ! Would’st be prating here the 
night long on pretence of a broken skin, and the savage at 
our gates ? A fine character will the Madam render of thy 
deeds when the other youths have beaten back the Indian, 
and thou loitering among the buildings !” 

The discomfited borderer was about to curse in his heart 
the versatile humor of his mistress, when he saw, by a side 
glance, that ears which had no concern in the subject had 
liked to have shared in the matter of their discourse. Seiz- 
ing the weapon which was leaning against the foundation 
of the block, he hurried past the mistress of the family, 
and in another minute his voice and his musket were again 
heard ringing in the uproar. 

“ Does he bring tidings from the palisadoes ?” repeated 
Ruth, too anxious that the. young man should return to his 
post, to arrest his retreat. “ What saith he of the onset ?” 

“ The savage hath suffered for his boldness, and little 
harm hath yet come to our people. Except that yon block 
of a man hath managed to put arm before the passage of an 
arrow, I ,know not that any of our people have been 
harmed.” 

“ Hearken ! they retire, Ruth. The yells are less near, 
and our young men will prevail ! Go thou to thy charge 
among the piles of the fuel, and see that no lurker remain- 
eth to do injury. The Lord hath, remembered mercy, and 
it may yet arrive that this evil shall pass away from before 
us!” 

The quick ear of Ruth had not deceived her. The 
tumult of the assault was gradually receding from the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 18Y 

works, and tliongh. the flashings of the muskets and the 
bellowing reports that rang in the surrounding forest were 
not less frequent than before, it was plain that the critical 
moment of the onset was already past. In place of the 
^fierce effort to carry the stockade by surprise, the savages 
had now resorted to means that were more methodical, 
and which, though not so appalling in appearance, were 
perhaps quite as certain of final success. Ruth profited 
by a momentary cessation in the flight of the missiles, 
to seek those in whose welfare she had placed her chief 
concern. 

“ Has other than brave Dudley suffered by this assault ?” 
demanded the anxious wife, as she passed swiftly among a 
group of dusky figures that were collected in consultation 
on the brow of. the declivity; “has any need of such care 
as a woman’s hand may bestow ? Heathcote, thy person 
is unharmed !” 

“ Truly, one of great mercy hath watched over it, for 
little opportunity hath been given to look to our own 
safety. I fear that some of our young men have not re- 
garded the covers with the attention that prudence re- 
quires.” 

“ The thoughtless Mark hath not forgotten my admo- 
nitions ! Boy, thou hast never lost sight of duty so far 
as to precede thy father ?” 

“ One sees or thinks but little of the red-skins when the 
whoop is ringing among the timbers of the palisadoes, mo- 
ther,” returned the boy, dashing his hand across his brow, 
in order that the drops of blood which were trickling from 
a furrow left by the passage of an arrow, might not be seen. 
“ I have kept near my father, but whether ir; his front or in 
his rear the darkness hath not permitted me to note.” 

“ The lad hath behaved in a bold and seemly manner,” 
said the stranger; “and he hath shown the metal of his 
grandsire’s stock. Ha! what is’t.we see gleaming among 


188 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

the sheds ? A sortie may he needed to save the granaries 
and thy folds from destruction 1” 

“ To the barns ! to the barns !” shouted two of the youths, 
from their several look-outs. “ The brand is in the build- 
ings !” exclaimed a maiden, who discharged a similar duty 
under cover of the dwellings. Then followed a discharge 
of muskets, all of which were levelled at the glancing light 
that was glaring in fearful proximity to the combustible ma- 
terials which filled the most of the out-buildings. A savage 
yell, and the sudden extinguishment of the blazing knot 
announced the fatal accuracy of the aim. 

“ This may not be neglected !” exclaimed Content, moved 
to extraordinary excitement by the extremity of the dan- 
ger. “ Father !” he called aloud, “ ’tis fitting time to show 
our utmost strength.” 

A moment of suspense succeeded this summons. Tlie 
whole valley was then as suddenly lighted as if a torrent of 
the electric fluid had flashed across its gloomy bed ; a sheet 
of flame glanced from the attic of the block, and then came 
the roar of the little piece of artillery, which had so long 
dwelt there in silence. The rattling of a shot among the 
sheds, and the rending of timber, followed. Fifty dark 
forms were seen by the momentary light gliding from 
among the out-buildings, in an alarm natural to their igno- 
rance, . and with an agility proportioned to their alarm. 
The moment was propitious. Content silently motioned to 
Reuben Ring ; they passed the postern together, and disap- 
peared in the direction of the barns. The period of their 
absence was one of intense care to Ruth, and it was not 
without its anxiety ^ven to those whose nerves were better 
steeled. A few moments, however, served to appease these 
feelings ; for the adventurers returned in safety and as 
silently as they had quitted the defences. The trampling 
of feet on the crust of the snow, the neighing of horses, 
and the bellowing of frightened cattle, as the terrified beasts 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 189 


scattered about the fields, soon proclaimed the object of the 
risk which had just been run. 

“ Enter,” whispered Ruth, who held the postern with her 
own hand. “ Enter, of Heaven’s mercy ! Thou hast given 
liberty to every hoof, that no living creature perish by the 
flames ?” 

“ All ; and truly not too speedily — for, see — the brand is 
again at work !” 

Content had much reason to felicitate himself on his ex- 
pedition ; for, even while he spoke, half-concealed torches, 
made as usual of blazing knots of pine, were again seen 
glancing across the 'fields, evidently approaching the out- 
buildings, by such indirect and covered paths as might pro- 
tect those who bore them from the shot of the garrison. A 
final and common effort was made to arrest the danger. 
The muskets of the young men were active, and more than 
once did the citadel of the stern old Puritan give forth its 
flood of flame, in order to beat back the dangerous visitants. 
A few shrieks of savage disappointment and. of bodily 
anguish announced the success of these discharges; but 
though most of those who approached the barns were 
cither driven bapk in fear or suffered for their temerity, one 
among them, more wary or more practised than his com- 
panions, found means to effect his object. The firing had 
ceased, and the besieged were congratulating themselves on 
success, when a sudden light glared across the fields. A 
sheet of flame soon came curling over the crest of a wheat- 
stack, and quickly wrapped the inflammable material in its 
fierce torrent. Against this destruction there remained no 
remedy. The barns and inclosures, which so lately had 
been lying in the darkness of the hour, were instantly' illu- 
minated, and life would have been the penalty paid by any 
of either party who should dare to trust his person within 
the bright glare. The borderers were soon compelled to 
fall back, even within the shadows of the ..hill, and to seek 


190 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

such covers as the stockades offered in order to avoid the 
aim of the arrow or the bullet. 

“ This is a mournful spectacle to one that has harvested 
in charity with all men,” said Content to the trembler who 
convulsively grasped his arm, as the flame whirled in the 
currents of the heated air, and sweeping once or twice 
across the roof of a shed, left a portion of its torrent creep- 
ing insidiously along the wooden covering. “ The in- 
gathering of a blessed season is about to melt into ashes 
before the brand of these accur ” 

“ Peace, Heathcote ! What is wealth, or the fulness of 
thy granaries, to that which remains ? Check these repin- 
ings of thy spirit, and bless God that he leaveth us our 
babes, and the safety of our inner roofs.” 

“ Thou sayest truly,” returned the husband, endeavoring 
to imitate the meek resignation of his companion. “ What 
indeed are the gifts of the world, set in the balance against 
the peace of mind — ha ! that evil blast of wind sealeth the 
destruction of our harvest! The flerce element is in the 
heart of the granaries.” 

Ruth made no reply, for though less moved by worldly 
cares than her husband, the frightful progress of the confla- 
gration alarmed her with a sense of personal danger. The 
flames had passed from roof to roof, and meeting every- 
where with fuel of the most combustible nature, the whole 
of the vast range of barns, sheds, granaries, cribs, and out- 
buildings, was just breaking forth in the brightness of a tor- 
rent of Are. Until this moment, suspense, with hope on 
one side and apprehension on the other, had kept both par- 
ties mute spectators of the scene. But yells of triumph 
soon proclaimed the delight with which the Indians wit- 
nessed the completion of their fell design. The whoops 
followed this burst of pleasure, and a third onset was made. 

The combatants now fought under a brightness which, 
though less natural, was scarcely less brilliant than that of 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 191 


noon-day. Stimulated by the prospect of success which 
was offered by the conflagration, the savages rushed upon 
the stockade with- more audacity than it was usual to dis- 
play in thpir cautious warfare. A broad shadow was cast, 
by the hill and its buildings, across the fields on the side 
opposite to the flames, and through this belt of comparative 
gloom, the fiercest of the band made their way to the very 
palisadoes with impunity. Their presence was announced 
by the yell of delight, for too many curious eyes had been 
drinking in the fearful beauty of the conflagration to note 
their approach until the attack had nearly proved success- 
ful. The rushes to the defence and to the attack were 
now alike quick and headlong. Volleys were useless, for 
the timbers offered equal security to both assailant and 
assailed. It was a struggle of hand to hand, in which num- 
bers would have prevailed, had it not been the good fortune 
of the weaker party to act on the defensive. Blows of the 
knife were passed swiftly between the timbers, and occa- 
sionally the discharge of the musket, or the twanging of the 
bow, was heard. 

“ Stand to the timbers, my men !” said the deep tones of 
the stranger, who spoke in the midst of the fierce struggle 
with that commanding and stirring cheerfulness that fami- 
liarity with danger can alone inspire. “ Stand to the de- 
fences, and they are impassable. Ha ! ’twas well meant, 
friend savage,” he muttered between his teeth, as he par- 
ried, at some jeopardy to one hand, a thrust aimed at his 
throat, while with the other he seized the warrior who had 
inflicted the blow, and drawing his naked breast, with the 
power of a giant, full against the opening between the tim- 
bers, he buried his own keen blade to its haft in the body. 
The eyes of the victim rolled* wildly, and when the iron 
hand which bound him to the wood with the power of a 
vice, loosened its grasp, he fell motionless on the earth. 
This death was succeeded by the usual yell of disappoint- 


192 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

ment, and the assailants disappeared as swiftly as they had 
approached. 

“ God be praised, that we have to rejoice in this advan- 
tage !” said Content, enumerating the individuals of his 
force, with an anxious eye, when all were again assembled 
at the stand on the hill, where, favored by the glaring light, 
they could overlook in comparative security the more ex- 
posed parts of their defences. “ We count our own, though 
I fear me many may have suffered.” 

The silence and the occupations of his listeners, most of 
whom were stanching their blood, was a’ sufficient answer. 

“ Hist, father !” said the quick-eyed and observant Mark ; 
“ one remaineth on the palisado nearest the wicket. Is it 
a savage ? or do I see a stump in the field beyond ?” 

All eyes followed the direction of the hand of the speaker, 
and there was seen, of a certainty, something clinging to 
the inner side of one of the timbers, that bore a marked 
resemblance to the human form. The part of the stock- 
ades, where the seeming figure clung, lay more in obscurity 
than the rest of the defences, and doubts as to its character 
were not alone confined to the quick-sighted lad who had 
first detected its presence. 

“ Who hangs upon our palisadoes ?” called Eben Dudley. 
“ Speak, that we do not harm a friend !” 

The wood itself was not more immovable than the dark 
object, until the report of the borderer’s musket was heard, 
and then it came tumbling to the earth like an insensible 
mass. 

“ Fallen like a stricken bear from his tree ! Life was in 
it, or no bullet of mine could have loosened the hold !” 
exclaimed Dudley, a little in exultation, as he saw the suc- 
cess of his aim. 

“ I will go forward, and see that he is past ” 

The mouth of young Mark was stopped by the hand of 
the stranger, who calmly observed- — 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 193 


“ I will look into the fate of the heathen, myself.” He 
was about to proceed to the spot, when the supposed dead 
or wounded man sprang to his feet, with a yell that rang in 
echoes along the margin of the forest, and bounded towards 
the cover of the buildings with high and active leaps. Two 
or three muskets sent their streaks of flame across his path, 
but seemingly without success. Jumping in a manner to 
elude the certainty of their Are, the unharmed savage gave 
forth another yell of triumph, and disappeared among the 
angles of the dwellings, llis cries were understood, for 
answering whoops were heard in the flelds, and the foe 
without again rallied to the attack. 

“ This may not be neglected,” said he who, more by his 
self-possession and air of authority, than by any known 
right to command, had insensibly assumed so much control 
in the important business of that night. “ One like this, 
within our walls, may quickly bring destruction on the gar- 
rison. The postern may be opened to an inroad ” 

“ A triple lock secures it,” interrupted Content. “ The 
key is hid where none know to seek it, other than such as 
are of our household.” 

“ And happily the means of passing the private wicket 
are in my possession,” muttered the other, in an under tone. 
“ So far, well ; but the brand ! the brand ! the maidens 
must look to the fires and lights, while the youths make 
good the stockade, since this assault admitteth not of fur- 
ther delay.” 

So saying, the stranger gave an example of courage by 
proceeding to his stand at the pickets, where, supported by 
his companions, he continued to defend the. approaches 
against a discharge of arrows and bullets that was more 
distant, but scarcely less dangerous to the safety of those 
who showed themselves on the side of the acclivity, than 
those which had been previously showered upon the gar- 
rison. 


9 


194 THE WEPT or WISH-TON - WISH. 

In the meantime, Ruth summoned her assistants, and 
hastened to discharge the duty which had just been pre- 
scribed. Water was cast freely on all the fires, and, as the 
still raging conflagration continued to give far more light 
than^Aj'as either 'necessary or safe, care was taken to extin- 
guish 'l^ny Jiofch or candle that, in the hurry of alarm, might 
have been left .to moulder in its socket, throughout the 
extensive range of the dwellings and the oflfices. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 195 


CHAPTER Xiy. 

** Thou mild, sad mother — 

Quit him not so soon I 
Mother, in mercy, stay 1 

Despair and death are with him ; and canst thou, 

With that kind, earthward look, go leave him now 

Dana. 

When these precautions were taken, the females returned 
to their several look-outs, and Ruth, whose duty it was in 
moments of danger to exercise a general superintendence, 
was left to her meditations and to such watchfulness as her 
fears might excite. Quitting the inner rooms, she approached 
the door that communicated with the court, and for a 
moment lost the recollection of her immediate cares in a 
view of the imposing scene by which she was surrounded. 

By this time, the whole of the vast range of out-buildings 
which had been constructed — as was usual in the Colonies — 
of the most combustible materials and with no regard to the 
expenditure of wood, was wrapt in fire. Notwithstanding 
the position of the intermediate edifices, broad flashes of 
light were constantly crossing the court itself, on whose sur- 
face she was able to distinguish the smallest object, while 
the heavens above her were glaring with a lurid red. 
Through the openings between the buildings of the quad- 
rangle, the eye could look,out upon the fields, where she saw 
every evidence of a sullen intention on the part of the sava- 
ges to persevere in their object. Dark, fierce-looking, and 
nearly naked human forms were seen flitting from cover to 
cover, while there was no stump nor log within arrow’s- 
flight of the defences, that did not protect the person of a 


196 THE WEPT OF WISII-TON-WISII. 

daring and indefatigable enemy. It was plain the Indians 
were there in hundreds, and as the assaults continued after 
the failure of a surprise, it was too evident that they were 
bent on victory, at some hazard to themselves. No usual 
means of adding to the horrors of the scene were neglected. 
Whoops and yells were incessantly ringing around the 
place, while the loud and often-repeated tones of a conch 
betrayed tjie artifice by which the savages had so often 
endeavored, in the earlier part of the night, to lure the gar- 
rison out of the palisadoes. A few scattering shot, dis- 
charged with deliberation and from every exposed point 
within the works, proclaimed both the coolness and the vigi- 
lance of the defendants. The little gun in the block-house 
was silent ; for the Puritan knew too well its real power to 
lessen its reputation by a too frequent use. The weapon was 
therefore reserved for those moments of pressing danger that 
would be sure to arrive. 

On this spectacle Ruth gazed in fearful sadness. The 
long-sustained and sylvan security of her abode was vio- 
lently destroyed, and in the place of a quiet which had 
approached as near as may be on earth to that holy peace 
for which her spirit strove, she and all she most loved were 
suddenly confronted to the most frightful exhibition of 
human horrors. In such a moment, the feelings of a mother 
were likely to revive ; and ere time was given for reflection, 
aided by the light of the conflagration, the matron was 
moving swiftly through the intricate passages of the dwell- 
ing, in quest of those whom she had placed in the security 
of the chambers. 

“ Thou hast remembered to avoid looking on the fields, 
my children,” said the nearly breathless woman as she 
entered the room. “Be thankful, babes ; hitherto the efforts 
of the savages have been vain, and we still remain masters of 
our habitations.” 

“ Why is the night so red ? Come hither, mother ; 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 197 


thou mayest look into* the wood as if the sun were 
shining !” 

“ The heathens have fired our granaries, and what thou 
seest, is the light of the fiames. But happily they cannot 
put brand into the dwellings, while thy father and the 
young men stand to their weapons. We must he grateful 
for this security, frail as it seemeth. Thou hast knelt, my 
Ruth, and hast; remembered to think of thy father and bro- 
ther in thy prayers.” 

“ 1 will do so again, mother,” whispered the child, bending 
to her knees, and wrapping her young features in the gar- 
ments of the matron. 

‘‘ Why hide thy countenance ? One young and innocent 
as thou,' may lift thine eyes to Heaven with confidence.” 

“ Mother, I see the Indian unless my face be hid. He 
looketh at me, I fear, with wish to do us harm.” 

“Thou art not just to Miantonimoh, child,” answered 
Ruth, as she glanced her eye rapidly round to seek the hoy,x 
who had modestly withdrawn into a remote and shaded 
corner of the room. “ I left him with thee for a guardian, 
and not as one who would wish to injure. Now think of 
thy God, child,” imprinting a kiss on the cold, marble-like 
forehead of her daughter, “ and have reliance in his good- 
ness. Miantonimoh, I again leave you with a charge to be 
their protector,” she added, quitting her daughter and 
advancing towards the youth. 

“ Mother !” shrieked the child, “ come to me, or I die !” 

Ruth turned from the listening captive with the quick- 
ness* of instinct. . A glance showed her the jeopardy of her 
offspring. A naked savage, dark, powerful of frame, and 
fierce in the •frightful masquerade of his war-paint, stood 
winding the silken hair of the girl in one hand, while he 
already held the glittering axe above a head that seemed 
inevitably devoted to destruction. 

Mercy! mercy!” exclaimed Ruth, hoai*se with horror. 


198 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

and dropping to her knees, as much from inability to stand 
as with intent to petition. “ Monster, strike me ; but spare 
the child!” 

The eyes of the Indian rolled over the person of the 
speaker, but it was with an expression that seemed rather to 
enumerate the number of his victims than to announce any 
change of purpose. With a fiend-like coolness that bespoke 
much knowledge of the ruthless practice, he again swung 
the quivering but speechless child in the air, and prepared 
to direct the weapon with a fell certainty of aim. ' The 
tomahawk had made its last circuit, and an instant would 
have decided the fate of the victim, when the captive boy 
stood in front of the frightful actor in this revolting scene. 
By a quick, forward movement of his arm, the blow was 
arrested. The deep guttural ejaculation which betrays the 
surprise of an Indian, broke from the chest of the savage, 
while his hand fell to his side, and the form of the sus- 
pended girl was suffered again to touch the fioor. The look 
and gesture with which the boy had interfered, expressed 
authority rather than resentment or horror. His air was 
calm, collected, and, as it appeared by the effect, imposing. 

“Go,” he said in the language of the fierce people from 
whom he had sprung ; “ the warriors of the pale men are 
calling thee by name.” 

“ The snow is red with the blood of our young men,” the 
other fiercely answered ; “ and not a scalp is at the belt of 
my people.” 

“ These are mine,” returned the boy with dignity, sweep- 
ing his arm while speaking, in a manner to show that he 
extended protection to all present. 

The warrior gazed about him grimly, and like one but 
half-convinced. He had incurred a danger too fearful in 
entering the stockade, to be easily diverted from his pur- 
pose. 

“Listen!” he continued, after a short pause, during 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WTSH. 199 


which the artillery of the Puritan had again bellowed in 
the uproar without. “ The thunder is with the Yengeese! 
Our young w’omen will look another way, and call us 
Pequots, should there be no scalps on our pole.” 

For a single moment the countenance of the hoy 
changed, and his resolution seemed to waver. The other, 
who watched his eyes with longing eagerness, again seized 
his victim by the hair, when Ruth shrieked in the accents 
of despair — 

“ Boy ! boy ! if thou art not with us, God hath deserted 
us ! ” 

“ She is mine,” burst fiercely from the ' lips of the lad. 
“Hear my words, Wompahwisset : the blood of my father 
is very warm within me.” 

The other paused, and the blow was once more sus- 
pended. The glaring eye-balls of the savage rested intently 
on the swelling form and stern countenance of the young 
hero, whose uplifted hand appeared to menace instant 
punishment, should he dare to disregard the mediation. 

• The lips of the warrior severed, and the word “ Miantoni- 
moh” was uttered as softly as if it recalled a feeling of sor- 
row. Then, as a sudden burst of yells rose above the roar 
of the conflagration, the fierce Indian turned in his tracks, 
and abandoning the trembling and nearly insensible child, 
he bounded away like a hound loosened on a fresh scent of 
blood. 

“ Boy ! boy !” murmured the mother ; “ heathen or 
Christian, there is one that will bless thee ! 

A rapid gesture of the hand interrupted the fervent ex- 
pression of her gratitude. Pointing after the form of the 
retreating savage, the lad encircled his own head with a 
finger, in a manner that could not be mistaken, as he 
uttered steadily, but with the deep emphasis of an Indian — 

“ The young Pale-face has a scalp !” 

Ruth heard no more. With instinctive rapidity, every 


200 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

feeling of her soul quickened nearly to agony, she rushed 
below, in order to warn Mark against the machinations of 
so fearful an enemy. Her step was heard but for a moment 
in the vacant chambers, and then the Indian boy, whose 
steadiness and authority had just been so signally exerted in 
favor of the children, resumed his attitude of meditation as 
quietly as if he took no further interest in the frightful 
events of the night. 

The situation of the garrison was now, indeed, to the last 
degree critical. A torrent of fire had passed from the fur- 
ther extremity of the out-houses to that which stood near- 
est to the defences ; and as building after building melted 
beneath its raging power, the palisadoes became heated 
nearly to the point of ignition. The alarm created by this 
imminent danger had already been given, and when Ruth 
issued into the court a female. was rushing past her, seem- 
ingly on some errand of the last necessity. 

“ Hast seen him ?” demanded the breathless mother, 
arresting the steps of the quick-moving girl. 

“ Not since the savage made his last onset; but I war- 
rant me he may be found near the western loops, making 
good the works against the enemy !” 

“ Surely he is not foremost in the fray ! Of whom 
speakest thou. Faith ? I questioned thee of Mark. There 
is one, even now, raging within the pickets, seeking a 
victim.” 

“ Truly, I thought it had been question of the boy is 

with his father and the stranger soldier, who does such 
deeds of valor in our behalf. I have seen no enemy within 
the palisadoes. Madam Heathcote, since the entry of the 
man who escaped, by favor of the powers of darkness, from 
the shot of Eben Dudley’s musket.” 

“ And is this evil like to pass from us,” resumed Ruth, 
breathing more freely, as she learned the safety of her son, 
“ or does Providence veil its face in anger ?” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH,. 201 


“ We keep oiir own, though the savage hath pressed the 
young men to extremity. Oh! it gladdened heart to see 
how brave a guard Reuben Ring and others near him made 
in our behalf. I do think me, Madam Heathcote, that after 
all there is real manhood in the brawler Dudley 1 Truly, 
the youth hath done marvels in the way of 'exposure and 
resistance. Twenty times this night have I expected to see 
him slain.” 

“ And he that lieth there ?” half-whispered the alarmed 
Ruth, pointing to a spot near them, where, aside from the 
movements of those who still acted in the bustle of the com- 
bat, one lay stretched on the earth — “ who hath fallen ? ” 

The cheek of Faith blanched to a whiteness that nearly 
equalled that of the linen, which, even in the hurry of such 
a scene, some friendly hand had found leisure to throw in 
decent sadness over the form. 

“ That !” said the faltering girl ; “ though hurt and 

bleeding, my brother Reuben surely keepeth the loop at the 
western angle ; nor is Whittal wanting in sufficient sense to 
take heed of danger. This may not be the stranger, for 
under the covers of the postern breast-work he holdeth 
counsel with the young captain.” 

“ Art certain, girl ?” 

“ I saw them both within the minute. Would to God 
we could hear the shout of noisy Dudley, Madam Heath- 
cote; his cry cheereth the heart, in a moment awful as 
this !” 

“ Lift the cloth,” said Ruth, with calm solemnity, “ that 
we may know which of our friends hath been called to the 
great account.” 

Faith hesitated ; and when by a powerful effort, in 
which secret interest had as deep an influence as obedience, 
she did comply, it was with a sort of desperate resolution. 
On raising the linen, the eyes of the two women rested on 
the pallid countenance of one who had been transfixed by 

9 ^ 


202 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

ail iron-headed arrow. The girl dropped the linen, and in 
a voice that sounded like a hurst of hysterical feeling, she 
exclaimed — 

“ ’Tis hut the youth that came lately among us ! We 
are spared the loss of any ancient friend.” 

“ ’Tis one who died for our safety. I would give largely 
of this world’s comforts, that this calamity might not have 
been, or that greater leisure for the last fearful reckoning 
had been accorded. But we may not lose the moments in 
mourning. Hie thee, girl, and sound the alarm that a 
savage lurketh within our walls, and. that he skulketh in 
quest of a secret blow. Bid all be wary. If the young 
Mark should cross thy path, speak to him twice of this dan- 
ger ; the child hath a froward spirit, and may not hearken 
to words uttered in too great hurry.” 

With this charge Ruth quitted her maiden. While the 
latter proceeded to give the necessary notice, the other 
sought the spot where she had just learned there was rea- 
son to believe her husband might be found. 

Content and the stranger were in fact met in consultation 
over the danger which threatened destruction to their most 
important means of defence. The savages themselves 
appeared to be conscious that the flames were working in 
their favor ; for their efforts sensibly slackened, and having 
already severely suffered in their attempts to annoy the gar- 
rison, they had fallen back to their covers, and awaited the 
moment when their practised cunning should tell them they 
might, with more flattering promises of success, again rally 
to the onset. A brief explanation served to make Ruth 
acquainted with the imminent jeopardy of their situation. 
Under a sense of a more appalling danger she lost the recol- 
lection of her former purpose, ‘and with a contracted and 
sorrowing eye she stood like her companions, in impotent 
helplessness, an entranced spectator of the progress of the 
destruction. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 208 


“ A soldier should not waste words in useless plaints,” 
observed a stranger, folding his arms like one who was 
conscious that human effort could do no more, “ else should 
I say, ’tis pity that he who drew yon line of stockade hath 
not remembered the uses of the ditch.” 

“ I will summon the maidens to the wells,” said Ruth. 

“ ’Twill not avail us. The arrow would be among them, 
nor could mortal long endure the heat of yon glowing 
furnace. Thou seest that the timbers already smoke and 
blacken under its fierceness.” 

The stranger was still speaking, when a small quivering 
flame played on the corners of the palisado nearest the 
burning pile. The element fluttered like a waving line 
along the edges of the heated wood, after which it spread 
over the whole surface of the timber, fron; its larger base to 
the pointed summit. As if this had merely been the signal 
of a general destruction, the flames kindled in fifty places at 
the same instant, and then the whole line of the stockade, 
nearest the conflagration, was covered with fire. A yell of 
triumph arose in the fields, and a flight of arrows, sailing 
tauntingly into the works, announced the fierce impatience 
of those who watched the increase of the conflagration. 

“We shall be driven to our block,” said Content. “As- 
semble thy maidens, Ruth, and make speedy preparation for 
the last retreat.” 

I go ; but hazard not thy life in any vain endeavor to 
retard the flames. There will yet be time for all that is 
needful to our security.” * 

“ I know not,” hurriedly observed the stranger. “ Here 
cometh the assault in a new aspect!” 

The feet of Ruth were arrested. On looking upwards she 
saw the object which had drawn this remark from the last 
speaker. A small bright ball of fire had arisen out of the 
fields, and, describing an arc in the air, it sailed above their 
heads and fell on the shingles of a building which formed 


204 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

part of the quadrangle of the inner court. The movement 
was that of an arrow thrown from a distant bow, and its 
way was to be traced by a long trail of light, that followed 
its course like a blazing meteor. This burning arrow had 
been sent with a cool and practised judgment. It lighted 
upon a portion of the combustibles that were nearly as 
inflammable as gunpowder, and the eye had scarcely suc- 
ceeded in tracing it to its fall, ere the bright flames were 
seen stealing over the heated roof. 

“ One struggle for our habitations !” cried Content — but 
the hand of the stranger was placed firmly on his shoulder. 
At that instant, a dozen similar meteor-looking balls shot 
into the air, and fell in as many different places on the 
already half-kindled pile. Further efforts would have been 
useless. Relinquishing the hope of saving his property, 
every thought was now given to personal safety. 

Ruth recovered from her short trance, and hastened with 
hurried steps to perform her well known office. Then came 
a few minutes of exertion, during which the females trans- 
ferred all that was necessary to their subsistence, and which 
had not been already provided in the block, to their little 
citadel. The glowing light, which penetrated the darkest 
passages among the buildings, prevented this movement from 
being made without discovery. The whoop summoned their 
enemies to another attack. The arrows thickened in the 
air, and the important duty was not performed without risk, 
as all were obliged, in some degree, to expose their persons, 
while passing to and fro, loaded with necessaries. Tlie 
gathering smoke, however, served in some measure for a 
screen ; and it was not long before Content -received the 
w'elcome tidings that he might command the retreat of his 
young men from the palisadoes. The conch sounded the 
necessary signal, and ere the foe had time to understand its 
meaning, or profit by the defenceless state of the works, 
every individual within them had reached th.e door of the 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


205 


block in safety. Still, there was more of hurry and confu- 
sion than altogether comported with their safety. They 
who were assigned to that duty, however, mounted eagerly 
to the loops, and stood in readiness to pour out their fire on 
whoever might dare to come within its reach, while a few 
still lingered in the court, to see that no necessary provision 
for resistance, or of safety, was forgotten; Ruth had been 
foremost in exertion, and she now stood pressing her hands 
to her temples, like one whose mind was bewildered by her 
own efforts. 

“ Our fallen friend !” she said. “ Shall we leave his 
remains to be mangled by the savage ?” 

“ Surely not ; Dudley, thy hand. We will bear the body 

within the lower ha! death hath struck another of our 

familv.” 

The alarm with which Content made this discovery 
passed quickly to all in hearing. It was but too apparent, 
by the shape of the linen, that two bodies lay beneath its 
folds. Anxious and rapid looks were cast from face to face, 
in order to learn who was missing ; and then, conscious of 
the hazard of further delay. Content raised the linen, in 
order to remove all doubts by certainty. The form of the 
young borderer, who was known to have fallen, was first 
slowly and reverently uncovered ; but even the most self- 
restrained among the spectators started back in horror, as 
his robbed and reeking head showed that a savage hand 
had worked its ruthless will on the unresisting corpse. 

“ The other I” Ruth struggled to say, and it was only as 
her husband had half removed the linen that she could 
succeed in uttering the words — “ Beware the other !” 

The warning was not useless, for the linen waved violently 
as it rose under the hand of Content, and a grim Indian 
.sprang into the very centre of the startled group. Sweep- 
ing his armed hand widely about him, the savage broke 
through the receding circle, and giving forth the appalling 


206 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

whoop of his tribe, he bounded into the open door of the 
principal dwelling, so swiftly as utterly to defeat any design 
of pursuit. The arms of Ruth were frantically extended 
towards the place where he had disappeared, and she was 
about to rush madly on his footsteps, when the hand of her 
husband stopped the movement. 

“ Would’st hazard life, to save some worthless trifle ?” 

“Husband, release me!” returned the woman, nearly 
choked with her agony — “ nature hath slept within me.” 

“Fear blindeth thy reason 1” 

The form of Ruth ceased to struggle. All the madness 
which had been glaring wildly about her eyes, disappeared 
in the settled look of an almost preternatural calm. Col- 
lecting the whole of her mental energy in one desperate 
effort of self-command, she turned to her husband, and, as 
her bosom swelled with the terror that seemed to stop her 
breath, she said in a voice that was frightful by its com- 
posure — 

“ If thou hast a father’s heart, release me. Our babes 
have been forgotten 1” 

The hand of Content relaxed its hold, and, in another in- 
stant, the form of his wife was lost to view on the track that 
had just been taken by the successful savage. This was the 
luckless moment chosen by the foe to push his advantage. 
A fierce burst of yells procfaimed the activity of the assail- 
ants, and a general discharge from the loops of the block- 
house sufficiently apprised those in the court that the onset 
of the enemy was now pushed into . the very heart of the 
defences. All had mounted, but the few who lingered To 
discharge the melancholy duty to the dead. They were too 
few to render resistance prudent, and yet too many to think 
of deserting the distracted mother and her offspring without 
an effort. 

“ Enter,” said Content, pointing to the door of the block. 
“ It is my duty to share the fate of those nearest my blood.” 


> THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 207 

The stranger made no answer. Placing his powerful 
hands on the nearly stupified husband, he thruk his person, 
by an irresistible effort, within the basement of the build- 
ing, and then he signed, by a quick gesture, for all around 
him to follow. After the last form had entered, he com- 
manded that the fastenings of the door should be secured, 
remaining himself, as he believed, alone without. But when 
by a rapid glance he saw there was another gazing in dull 
awe on the features of the fallen man, it was too late to rec- 
tify the mistake. Yells were now rising out of the black 
smoke that was rolling in volumes from the heated buildings, 
and it was plain that only a few feet divided them from their 
pursuers. Beckoning the man who had been excluded from 
the block to follow, the stern soldier rushed into the prin- 
cipal dwelling, which w'as still but little injured by the fire. 
Guided rather by chance than by any knowledge of the 
windings of the building, he soon found himself in the 
chambers. He was now at a loss whither to proceed. At 
that moment, his companion, who was no other than Whit- 
tal Ring, took the lead, and in another instant they were at 
the door of the secret apartment. 

“ Hist !” said the stranger, raising a hand to command 
silence as he entered the room. “ Our hope is in sccresy.” 

“ And how may we escape without detection ?” demanded 
the mother, pointing about her at objects illuminated by a 
light so powerful as to penetrate every cranny of the ill-con- 
structed building. “The noon-day sun is scarce brighter 
than this dreadful fire !” 

“God is in the eleitients! His guiding hand shall point 
the way. But here we may not tarry, for the flames are 
already on the shingles. Follow, and speak not.” 

Ruth pressed the children to her side, and the whole party 
left the apartment of the attic in a body. Their descent to 
a lower room was made quickly, and without discovery. 
But here their leader paused, for the state of things without 


208 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

was one to demand the utmost steadiness of nerve, and great 
reflection. 

The Indians had by this time gained command of the 
whole of Mark Heathcote’s possessions, with the exception 
of the block-house ; and as their first act had been to apply 
the brand wherever it might be wanting, the roar of the 
conflascration was now heard in cverv direction. The dis- 
charge of muskets and the whoops of the combatants, how- 
ever, while they added to the horrible din of such a. scene, 
proclaimed the unconquered resolution of those who held 
the citadel. A window of the room they occupied enabled 
the stranger to take a cautious survey of what was passing 
without. The court, lighted to the brilliancy of day, was 
empty ; for the increasing heat of the fires, no less than the 
discharges from the loops, still kept the cautious savages to 
their covers. There was barely hope, that the space between 
the dwelling and the block-house might yet be passed in 
safety. 

“ I would I had asked that the door of the block should 
be held in hand,” muttered Submission ; “ it would be death 
to linger an instant in that fierce light ; nor have we any 
manner of ” 

A touch was laid upon his arm, and turning, the speaker 
saw the dark eye of the captive boy looking steadily in his 
face. 

“ Wilt do it ?” demanded the other, in a manner to show 
that he doubted, while he hoped. 

A speaking gesture of assent was the answer, and then 
the form of the lad was seen gliding quietly from the room. 

Another instant, and Miantonimoh appeared in the coui-t. 
He walked with the deliberation that one would have 
shown in moments of the most entire security. A hand 
was raised towards the loops, as if to betoken amity, and 
then dropping the limb, he moved with the same slow step 
into the very centre of the area. Here the boy stood in 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 209 


the ‘ftillest glare of the conflagration, and turned his face 
deliberately on every side of him. The action showed that 
he wished to invite all eyes to examine his person. At this 
moment the yells ceased in the surrounding covers, pro- 
claiming alike the common feeling that was awakened by 
his appearance, and the hazard that any other would have 
incurred by exposing himself in that fearful scene. When 
this act of exceeding confldence had been performed, the 
boy drew a pace nearer to the entrance of the block. 

“ Cohiest thou in peace, or is this another device of Indian 
treachery ?” demanded a voice, through an opening in the 
door left expressly for the purposes of parley. 

The boy raised the palm of one hand towards the speaker, 
while he laid the other with a gesture of confidence on his 
naked breast. 

“ Hast aught to offer in behalf of my wife and babes ? If 
gold will buy' their ransom, name thy price.” 

Miantonimoh was at no loss to comprehend the other’s 
meaning. With the readiness of one whose faculties had 
been early schooled in the inventions of emergencies, he 
piadc a gesture that said even more than his figurative 
words, as he answered — 

“Can a woman of the Pale-faces pass through wood? 
An Indian arrow is swifter than the foot of my mother.” 

“ Boy, I trust thee,” returned the voice fi’om within the 
loop. “ If thou deceivest beings so feeble and so innocent, 
Heaven will remember the wrong.” 

Miantonimoh again made a sign to show that caution 
must be used, and then he retired with a step calm and 
measured as that used in his advance. Another pause to 
the shouts betrayed the interest of those whose fierce eyes 
watched his movements in the distance. 

When the young Indian had rejoined the party in the 
dwelling, he led them, without being observed by the lurk- 
ing band that still hovered in the smoke of the surrounding 


210 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

buildings, to a spot that commanded a full view of their 
short but perilous route. At this moment the door of the 
block-house half-opened, and was closed again. Still the 
stranger hesitated, for he saw how little was the chaneethat 
all should cross the court unharmed, and to pass it by 
repeated trials he knew to be impossible. 

“ Boy,” he said, “ thou, who hast done thus much, may 
still do more. Ask mercy for these children, in some man- 
ner that may touch the hearts of thy people.” 

Miantonimoh shook his head, and pointing to the ghastly 
corpse that lay in the court, he answered coldly — 

“ The red-man has tasted blood.” 

“ Then must the desperate trial be done ! Think not of 
thy children, devoted and daring mother, but look only to 
thine own safety. This witless youth and I will charge our- 
selves with the eare of the innocents.” 

Ruth waved him away with her hand, pressing her mute 
and trembling daughter to her bosom, in a manner to show 
that her resolution was taken. The stranger yielded, and 
turning to Whittal who stood near him, seemingly as much 
occupied in vacant admiration of the blazing piles as in any, 
apprehension of his own personal danger, he bade him look 
to the safety of the remaining child. Moving in front him- 
self, he was about to offer Ruth such protection as the case 
afforded, when a window in the rear of the house was 
dashed inwards, announcing the entrance of the enemy, and 
the imminent danger that their flight would be intercepted. 
There was no time to lose, for it was now certain that 
only a single room separated them from their foes. The 
generous nature of Ruth w^as aroused, and catching Martha 
from the arms of Whittal Ring, she endeavored by a despe- 
rate effort, in which feeling rather than any reasonable motive 
predominated, to envelope both the children in her robe. 

“ I am wdth ye !” w^hispered the agitated woman : “ hush 
ye, hush ye, babes ! thy mother is nigh ! ” 


THE WEPT OF W 1 S H - T O N - W I S H . 211 


The stranger was very differently employed. The instant 
the crash of glass was heard, he rushed to the rear ; and he 
had already grappled with the savage so often named, and 
who acted as guide to a dozen fierce and yelling followers. 

■“ To the block ! ” shouted the steady soldier, while with 
a powerful arm he held his enemy in the throat of the nar- 
row passage, stopping the approach of those in the rear 
by the body of his foe. “ For the love of life and children, 
woman, to the block ! ” 

The summons rang frightfully in the ears of Ruth, but in 
that moment of extreme jeopardy her presence of mind was 
lost. The cry was repeated, and not till then did the be- 
wildered mother catch her daughter from the fioor. With 
eyes still bent on the fierce struggle in her rear, she clasped 
the child to her heart and fled, calling on Whittal Ring to 
follow. The lad obeyed, and ere she had half crossed the 
court the stranger, still holding his savage shield between 
him and his enemies, was seen endeavoring to take the same 
direction. The whoops, the flight of arrows, and the dis- 
charges of musketry that succeeded, proclaimed the whole 
extent of the danger. But fear had lent unnatural vigor to 
the limbs of Ruth, and the gliding arrows themselves scarce 
sailed more swiftly through the heated air than she darted 
into the open door of the block. Whittal Ring was less 
successful. As he crossed the court, bearing the child in- 
trusted to his care, an arrow pierced his flesh. Stung by 
the pain, the witless lad turned in anger to chide the hand 
that had inflicted the injury. 

“ On, foolish boy ! ” cried the stranger, as he passed him, 
still making a target of the body of the savage that was 
writhing in his grasp. “ On, for thy life, and that of the 
babe ! ” 

The mandate came too late. The hand of an Indian was 
already on the innocent victim, and in the next instant the 
child was sweeping the air, while with a short yell the keen 


212 


THE WEPT OF W I, S H - T O N - W I S H . 


axe flourished above his head. A shot from the loops laid 
the monster dead in his tracks. The girl was instantly 
seized by another hand, and as the captor with his prize 
darted unharmed into the dwelling, there arose in the block 
a common exclamation of the name of “ Miantonimoh ! ” 
Two more of the savages profited by the pause of horror 
that followed, to lay hands on the wounded Whittal and to 
drag him within the blazing building. At the same moment, 
the stranger cast the unresisting savage back upon the weapons 
of his companions. The bleeding and half strangled Indian 
met the blows which had been aimed at the life of the 
soldier, and as he staggered and fell, his vigorous conqueror 
disappeared in the block. The door of the little citadel 
was instantly closed, and the savages, who rushed headlong 
against the entrance, heard the fitting of the bars which 
secured it against their attacks. The yell of retreat was 
raised, and in the next instant the court was left to the pos- 
session of the dead. 



THE WEPT O F ■ W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


213 



CHAPTER XV. 

• 

“ Did Heaven look on, 

And would not take their part ? — 

Heaven rest them now? ” : 

Macbeth. 

“We will be thankful for this blessing,” said Content, as 
he aided the half unconscious Ruth to mount the ladder, 
yielding himself to a feeling of nature that said little against 
his manhood. “ If we have lost one that we loved, God 
hath spared our own child.” 

His breathless wife threw herself into a seat, and folding 
the treasure to her bosom, she whispered rather than said 
aloud — “ From my soul, Heathcote, am I grateful ! ” 

“ Thou shieldest the babe from my sight,” returned the 
father, stooping to conceal a tear that was stealing down 
his brown cheek, under the pretence of embracing the child 
— but suddenly recoiling, he added in alarm — “ Ruth ! ” 

Startled by the tone in which her husband uttered her 
name, the mother threw aside the folds of her dress which 
still concealed the girl, and stretching her out to the length 
of an arm, she saW that, in the hurry of the appalling 
scene, the children had been exchanged, and that she had 
saved the life of Martha ! 

Notwithstanding the generous disposition of Ruth, it was 
impossible to repress the 'feeling of disappointment which 
came over her with the consciousness of the mistake. 
Nature at first had sway, and to a degree that was fear- 
fully powerful. 

“ It is not our babe ! ” shrieked the mother, still holding 


214 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the child at the length of her arm, and gazing at its in- 
nocent and terrified countenance, with an expression that 
Martha had never yet seen gleaming from eyes that were 
in common so soft and so indulgent. 

“ I am thine ! I am thine !” murmured the little trem- 
bler, struggling in vain to reach the bosom that had so long 
cherished her infancy. “ If not thine, whose am I ?” 

The gaze of Ruth was still wild — the workings of her 
features hysterical. 

“ Madam — Mrs. Heathcote — mother !” came timidly and 
at intervals, from the lips of the orphan. Then the heart 
of Ruth relented. She clasped the daughter of her friend 
to her breast, and Nature found a temporary relief in one of 
those frightful exhibitions of anguish which appear to 
threaten the dissolution of the link which connects the soul 
with the body. 

“ Come, daughter of John Harding,” said Content, looking 
around him with the assumed composure of a chastened 
man, while natural regret struggled hard at his heart ; “this 
has been God’s pleasure. It is meet that we kiss his parental 
hand. Let us be thankful,” he added, with a quivering lip 
but steady eye, “ that even this mercy hath been shown. 
Our babe is with the Indian, but our hopes are far beyond 
the reach of savage malignity. We have not ‘laid up 
treasure where moth and rust can corrupt, or where thieves 
may break in and steal.’ It may be that the morning shall 
bring means of parley, and haply, opportunity of ransom.” 

There was the glimmering of hope in this suggestion. 
The idea seemed to give a new direction to the thoughts of 
Ruth, and the change enabled the long habits of self-restraint 
to regain something of their former ascendency. The foun- 
tains of her tears became dry, and after one short and terri- 
ble struggle, she was again enabled to appear composed. 
But at no time during the continuance of that fearful strug- 
gle, was Ruth Heathcote again the same ready and useful 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 215 


agent of activity and order that she had been in the earlier 
events of the night. 

It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that the 
brief burst of parental agony which has just been related, 
escaped Content and his'wife amid a scene in which the 
other actors were too much occupied by their exertions to 
note its exhibition. The fate of those in the block was too 
evidently approaching its close, to allow of any interest in 
•such an episode to the great tragedy of the moment. 

The character of the contest had in some measure 
changed. There was no longer any immediate apprehension 
from the missiles of , the assailants, though danger pressed 
upon the besieged in a new and even in a more horrible 
aspect. Now and then indeed an arrow quivered in the 
openings of the loops, and the blunt Dudley had once a nar- 
row escape from the passage of a bullet, which, guided by 
chance, or aimed by a hand surer than common, glanced 
through one of the narrow slits, and would have terminated 
the history of the borderer, had not the head it obliquely 
encountered, been too solid to yield even to such an assault. 
The attention of the garrison was chiefly called to the immi- 
nent danger of the surrounding Are. Though the proba- 
bility of such an emergency as that in which the family was 
now placed, had certainly been foreseen, and in some degree 
guarded against, in the size of the area and in the construc- 
tion of the block, yet it was found that the danger exceeded 
all former calculations. 

For the basement, there was no reason to feel alarm. It 
was of stone, and of a thickness and a material to put at 
defiance any artifice that their enemy might find time to 
practise. Even the two upper stories were comparatively 
safe ; for they were composed of blocks so solid as to require 
time to heat them, and they w^ere consequently as little 
liable to combustion as wood well could be. But the roof, 
like all of that, and indeed like most of the present day in 


216 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

America, was composed of short inflammable shingles of 
pine. The superior height of the tower was some little pro- 
tection ; but as the flames rose roaring above the buildings 
of the court, and waved in wide circuits around the heated 
area, the whole of the fragile covering of the block was often 
wrapped in folds of fire. The result may be anticipated. 
Content was first recalled from the bitterness of his parental 
regret, by a cry which passed among the family, that the 
roof of their little citadel was in flames. One of the ordinary 
wells of the habitation was in the basement of the edifice, 
and it was fortunate that no precaution necessary to render 
it serviceable in an emergency like that which was now 
arrived, had been neglected. A well-secured shaft of stone 
rose through the lower apartment into the upper floor. 
Profiting by this happy precaution, the handmaidens of 
Ruth plied the buckets with diligence, while the young men 
cast water freely on the roof, from the windows of the attic. 
The latter duty it may readily be supposed was not per- 
formed without hazard. Flights of arrows were constantly 
directed against the laborers, and more than one of the 
youths received greater or less injuries while exposed to 
their annoyance. There were indeed a few minutes during 
which it remained a question of grave interest how far the 
risk they ran was likely to be crowned with success. The 
excessive heat of so many fires, and the occasional contact 
with the flames, as they swept in eddies over the place, 
began to render it doubtful whether any human efforts could 
long arrest the evil. Even the massive and moistened logs 
of the body of the work began to smoke, and it was found 
by experiment, that the hand could rest but a moment on 
their surface. 

During this interval of deep suspense, all the men posted 
at the loops were called to aid in extinguishing the fire. 
Resistance was forgotten in the discharge of a duty that had 
become still more pressing. Ruth herself was aroused by 


THE WEPT OF WlSH-TON-WISII. 2l7 

the nature of the alarm, and all hands and all minds were 
arduously occupied in a toil that diverted attention from 
incidents which had less interest, because they were teeming 
less with instant destruction. Danger is known to lose its 
terrors by familiarity. The young borderers became reck- 
less of their persons in the ardor of exertion, and as success 
began to crown their efforts, something like the levity of 
happier moments got the better of their concern. Stolen 
and curious glances were thrown around a place that had so 
long been kept sacred to the secret uses of the Puritan, 
when it was found that the flames were subdued, and that 
the present danger was averted. The light glared power- 
fully through several openings in the shingles no less than 
through the windows, and every eye was enabled to scan 
the contents of an apartment which all had longed, though 
none had ever before presumed to enter. 

“ The Captain looketh well to the body,” whispered 
Reuben Ring to one of his comrades, as he wiped the effects 
of the toil from a sun-burnt brow. “ Thou seest, Hiram, 
that there is good store of cheer.” 

“ The buttery is not better stored !” returned the other, 
with the shrewdness and ready observation of a border-man. 
“ It is known that he never toucheth that which the cow 
yields, except as it comes from the creature, and here we 
find of the best that the Madam’s dairy can yield ! 

“ Surely yon buff jerkin is like to those worn by the idle 
cavaliers at home ! I think it be long since the Captain 
hath ridden forth in such a guise.” 

“ That may be matter of ancient usage, for thou seest he 
hath relics of the fashion of the English troopers in this bit 
of steel ; it is like he holdeth deep exercise over the vani- 
ties of his youth, while recalling the times in which they 
were worn.” 

This conjecture appeared to satisfy the other, though it is 
probable that a sight of a fresh store of bodily aliment, 

10 


218 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

which was soon after exposed, in order to gain access to the 
roof, might have led to some further inferences, had more 
time been given to conjectures. But at this moment a new 
wail proceeded from the maidens who plied the buckets 
beneath. 

“ To the loops ! to the loops, or we are lost ! ” was a 
summons that admitted of no day. Led by the stranger, 
the young men rushed below, where, in truth, they found a 
serious demand on all their activity and courage. 

The Indians were wanting in none of the sagacity which 
so remarkably distinguishes the warfare of this cunning 
race. The time spent by the family in arresting the flames 
had not been thrown away by the assailants. Profiting by 
the attention of those within, to efforts that were literally 
of the last importance, they had found means to convey 
burning brands to the door of the block, against which 
they had piled a mass of blazing combustibles, that threat- 
ened shortly to open the way into the basement of the cita- 
del itself. In order to mask this design and to protect 
their approaches, the savages had succeeded in dragging 
bundles of straw and other similar materials to the foot of 
the work, to which the fire soon communicated, and which 
consequently served both to increase the actual danger of 
the building and to distract the attention of those by whom 
it was defended, x^lthough the water that fell from the 
roof served to retard the progress of these flames, it con- 
tributed to produce the effect of all others that was most, 
desired by the savages. The dense volumes of smoke that 
arose from the half-smothered fire first apprised the females 
of the new danger which assailed them. When Content 
and the stranger reached the principal floor of their citadel, 
it required some little time and no small degree of coolness 
to comprehend the situation in which they were now placed. 
The vapor that rolled upwards from the wet straw and hay 
had already penetrated into the apartment, and it was with 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 219 

no slight difficulty that they who occupied it were enabled 
to distinguish objects, or even to breathe. 

“ Here is matter to exercise our utmost fortitude,” said 
the stranger to his constant companion. “We must look 
to this new device, or we come to the fate of death by fire. 
Summon the stoutest-hearted of thy youths, and I will lead 
them to a sortie, ere the evil get past a remedy.” 

“ That were certain victory to the heathen. Thou hear- 
est, by their yells, that ’tis no small band of scouters who 
beleaguer us ; a tribe hath sent forth its chosen warriors to 
do their wickedness. Better is it that we bestir ourselves 
to drive them from our door, and to prevent the further 
annoyance of this cloud, since, to issue from the block, at 
this moment, would be to offer our heads to the tomahawk ; 
and to ask mercy is as vain as to hope to move the rock 
with tears.” 

“ And in what manner may we do this needful ser- 
vice ?” 

“ Our muskets will still command the entrance, by means 
of these downward loops, and water may be yet applied 
through the same openings. Thought hath been had of 
this danger, in the disposition of the place.” 

“ Then, of Heaven’s mercy ! delay not the effort.” 

The necessary measures were taken instantly. Eben 
Dudley applied the muzzle of his piece to a loop, and dis- 
‘charged it downwards, in the direction of the endangered 
door. But aim was impossible in the obscurity, and his 
want of success was proclaimed by a taunting shout of tri- 
umph. Then followed a flood of water, which, however, 
was scarcely of more service, since the savages had foreseen 
its use, and had made a provision against its effects by 
placing boards and such vessels as they found scattered 
among the buildings, above the fire, in a manner to prevent 
most of the fluid from reaching its aim. 

“ Come hither with thy musket, Reuben Ring,” said Con- 


220 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

tent, hurriedly ; “ the wind stirreth the smoke here ; the 
savages still heap fuel against the wall.” 

. The borderer complied. There were in fact moments 
when dark human forms were to be seen gliding in silence 
around the building, though the density of the vapor ren- 
dered the forms indistinct, and their movements doubtful. 
With cool and practised eye the youth sought a victim ; 
but as he discharged his musket an object glanced near his 
own visage, as though the bullet had recoiled on him who 
had given it a very different mission. Stepping backwards 
a little hurriedly, he saw the stranger pointing through 
the smoke at an arrow, which still quivered in the floor 
above them. 

“We cannot long abide these assaults,” the soldier mut- 
tered : “ something must be speedily devised, or we fall.” 

His words ceased, for a yell that appeared to lift the floor 
on which he stood, announced the destruction of the door 
and the presence of the savages in the basement of the 
tower. Both parties appeared momentarily confounded at 
this unexpected success ; for while the one stood mute with 
astonishment and dread, the other did little more than tri- 
umph. But this inaction soon ended. The conflict was 
resumed, though the eflforts of the assailants began to 
assume the confidence of victory, while on the part of the 
besieged they partook fearfully of the aspect of despair. 

A few muskets were discharged, both from below and 
above, at the intermediate floor, but the thickness of the 
planks prevented the bullets from doing injury. Then com- 
menced a struggle, in which the respective qualities of the 
combatants were exhibited in a singularly characteristic 
manner. While the Indians improved .their advantages be- 
neath, with all the arts known to savage warfare, the 
young men resisted with that wonderful aptitude of expe- 
dient and readiness of execution which distinguish the 
American borderer. 


THE WEPT OF W I S 11 - T O N - W I S H . 221 


The first attempt of the assailants was to burn the floor of 
the lower apartment. In order to effect this, they threw 
vast piles of straw into the basement. But ere the brand 
was applied, water had reduced the inflammable material to 
a black and murky pile. Still the smoke had nearly effected 
a conquest which the fire itself had failed to achieve. So 
suffocating indeed were tbe clouds of vapor which ascended 
through the crevices, that the females were compelled to 
seek a refuge in the attic. Here the openings in the roof, 
and a swift current of air, relieved them in some degree 
from its annoyance. 

When it was found that the command of the well afforded 
the besieged the means of protecting the wood-work of the 
interior, an effort was made to cut off the communication 
with the water, by forcing a passage into the circular stone 
shaft, through which it was drawn into the room above. 
This attempt was defeated by the readiness of the youths, 
who soon cut holes in the floor, whence they sent down cer- 
tain death on all beneath. Perhaps no part of the assault 
was more obstinate than that which accompanied this effort ; 
nor did cither assailants or assailed, at any time during its 
continuance, suffer greater personal injury. After a long 
and fierce struggle, the resistance was effectual, and the 
savages had recourse to new schemes in order to effect their 
ruthless object. 

During the first moments of their entrance, and with a 
view to reap the fruits of the victory when the garrison 
should be more effectually subdued, most of the furmture of 
the dwelling had been scattered by the conquerors on the 
side of the hill. Among other articles, some six or seven 
beds had been dragged from the dormitories. These were 
now brought into play as powerful instruments in the assault. 
They were cast, one by one, on the still burning though 
smothered flames in the basement of the block, whence 
they sent up a cloud of their intolerable effluvia. At this 


222 T HE WEPT O F W I S H - T O X - V/ I S II . 

trying moniciit the appalling cry was heard in the block that 
the well had failed ! The buckets ascended as empty as 
they went down, and they were thrown aside as no longer 
useful. The savages seemed to comprehend their advantage, 
for they profited by the confusion that succeeded among the 
assailed to feed the slumbering fires. The flames kindled 
fiercely, and in less than a minute they became too violent 
to be subdued. They were soon seen playing on the planks 
of the floor above. The subtle element flashed from point 
to point, and it was not long ere it was stealing up the outer 
side of the heated block itself. 

The savages now knew that conquest was sure. Yells and 
whoopings proclaimed the fierce delight .with which they 
witnessed the certainty of their victory. Still there was 
something portentous in the death -like silence with which 
the victims within the block awaited their fate. The whole 
exterior of the building was already wrapped in flames, and 
yet no show of further resistance, no petition for mercy, 
issued from its bosom. The unnatural and frightful stillness 
that reigned within was gradually communicated to those 
without. The cries and shouts of triumph ceased, and the 
crackling of the flames, or the falling of timber in the 
adjoining buildings, alone disturbed the awful calm. At 
length a solitary voice was heard in the block. Its tones 
were deep, solemn, and imploring. The fierce beings who 
surrounded the glowing pile bent forward to listen, for their 
quick faculties caught the first sounds that were audible. 
It was .Mark Heathcote pouring out his spirit in prayer. 
The petition was fervent, but steady, and though uttered in 
words that were unintelligible to those without, they knew 
enough of the practices of the Colonists to be aware that it 
was the chief of the Pale-faces holding communion with his 
God. Partly in awe, and partly in doubt of what might be 
the consequences of so mysterious an asking, the dark crowd 
withdrew to a little distance, and silently watched the pro- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 223 


gress of the destruction. They had heard strange sayings 
of the power of the Deity of their invaders, and as their 
victims appeared suddenly to cease using any of the known 
means of safety, they appeared to expect, perhaps they did 
expect, some unequivocal manifestation of the power of the 
Great Spirit of the stranger. 

Still no sign of pity, no relenting from the ruthless bar- 
barity of their warfare, escaped any of the assailants. If 
they thought at all of the temporal fate of those who might 
still exist within the fiery pile, it was only to indulge in 
some passing regret that the obstinacy of the defence had 
deprived them of the glory of bearing the usual bloody 
tokens of victory in triumph to their villages. But even 
these peculiar and deeply-rooted feelings were forgotten, as 
the progress of the flames placed the hope of its indulgence 
beyond all possibility. 

The roof of the block rekindled, and, by the light that 
shone through the loops, it was but too evident the interior 
was in a blaze. Once or twice smothered sounds came out 
of the place as if suppressed shrieks were escaping the 
females; but they ceased so suddenly as to leave doubts 
among the auditors whether it were more than the deception 
of their own excited fancies. The savages had witnessed 
many a similar scene of human suffering, but never one 
before in which death was met with so unmoved a calmness. 
The serenity that reigned in the blazing block communicated 
. to them a feeling of awe ; and when the pile came a tumbling 
and blackened mass of ruins to the earth, they avoided the 
place like men that dreaded the vengeance of a Deity who 
knew how to infuse so deep a sentiment of resignation into 
the breasts of his worshippers. 

Though the yells of victory were again heard in the valley 
that night, and though the sun had arisen before the con- 
querors deserted the hill, but few of the band found resolu- 
tion to approach the smouldering pile where they had 


•224 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


witnessed so impressive an exhibition of Christian fortitude. 
The few that did draw near stood around the spot rather in 
the reverence with which an Indian visits the graves of the 
just, than in the fierce rejoicings with which he is known to 
glut his revenge over a fallen enemy. 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


225 


CHAPTER XYI. 


“ What are these, 

So withered, and so wild in their attire ; 

That look not like the inhabitants of earth. 

And yet are on’t ?” 

Macbeth. 

That sternness of the season, which has already been 
mentioned in these pages, is never of long continuance in 
the month of April. A change in the wind had been noted 
by the hunters even before they retired from their range 
among the hills ; and though too seriously occupied to pay 
close attention to the progress of the thaw, more than one 
of the young men had found occasion to remark that the 
final breaking up of the winter had arrived. Long ere the 
scene of the preceding chapter reached its height, the south- 
ern winds had mingled with the heat of the conflagration. 
Warm airs, that had been following the course of the Gulf 
Stream, were driven to the land, and, sweeping over the 
narrow island that at this point forms the advanced work 
of the continent, but a few short hours had passed before 
they destroyed every chilling remnant of the dominion of 
winter. Warm, bland, and rushing in torrents, the subtle 
currents penetrated the forests, melted the* snows from the 
fields, and as all alike felt the genial influence, it appeared 
to bestow a renovated existence on man and beast. With 
morning, therefore, a landscape very different from that 
last placed before the mind of the reader, presented itself in 
the valley of the Wish-Ton-Wish. 

The winter had entirely disappeared, and as the buds had 
10 ^^* 


226 THE WEFT OF W 1 S H - T O N - W I S H . 

begun to swell under the occasional warmth of the spring, 
one ignorant of the past would not have supposed that the 
advance of the season had been subject to so stern an inter- 
ruption. But the principal and most melancholy change 
was in the more artificial parts of the view. Instead of those 
simple and happy habitations which had crowned the little 
eminence, there remained only a mass of blackened and 
charred ruins. A few abused and half-destroyed articles of 
household furniture lay scattered on the sides of the hill, 
and here and there a dozen palisadoes, favored by some 
accidental cause, had partially escaped the flames. Eight 
or ten massive and dreary-looking stacks of chimneys rose 
out of the smoking piles. In the centre of the desolation 
was the stone basement of the block-house, on which still 
stood a few gloomy masses of the timber resembling coal. 
The naked and unsupported shaft of the well reared its cir- 
cular pillar from the centre, looking like a dark monument 
of the past. The wide ruin of the out-buildings blackened 
one side of the clearing, and, in dififerent places, the fences, 
like radii diverging from the common centre of destruction, 
had led off* the flames into the fields. A few domestic 
animals ruminated in the back-ground, and even the 
feathered inhabitants of the barns still kept aloof, as if 
warned by their instinct that danger lurked around the site 
of their ancient abodes. In all other respects the view was 
calm and lovely as ever. The sun shone from a sky in 
•which no cloud was visible. The blandness of the winds, 
and the brightness of the heavens, lent an air of animation 
to even the leafless forest ; and the white vapor, that con- 
tinued to rise from the smouldering piles, floated high over 
the hills, as the peaceful smoke of the cottage curled above 
its roof. 

The ruthless band which had occasioned this sudden 
change was already far on the way to its villages, or haply 
it sought some other scene of blood. A skilful eye might 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 227 

have traced the route these fierce creatures of the wooas 
had taken, by fences hurled from their places, or by the 
carcass of some animal that had fallen, in the wantonness 
of victory, beneath a parting blow. Of all these wild beings, 
one only remained ; and he appeared to linger at the spot 
in the indulgence of feelings that were foreign to those pas- 
sions that had so recently stirred the bosoms of his comrades. 

It was with a slow, noiseless step, that the solitary loiterer 
moved about the scene of destruction. He was first seen 
treading with a thoughtful air, among the ruins of the 
buildings that had formed the quadrangle, and then, seem- 
ingly led by an interest in the fate of those who had so mise- 
rably perished, he drew nearer to the pile in its centre. 
The nicest and most attentive ear could not have detected 
the fall of his foot, as the Indian placed it within the gloomy 
circle of the ruined wall ; nor is the breathing of the infant 
less audible, than the manner in which he drew breath, while 
standing in a place so lately consecrated by the agony and 
martyrdom of a Christian family. It was the boy called 
Miantonimoh, seeking some melancholy memorial of those 
with whom he had so long dwelt in amity, if not in confi- 
dence. 

One skilled in the history of savage passions might have 
found a clue to the workings of the mind of the youth, in 
the play of his speaking features. As his dark glittering 
eye rolled over the smouldering fragments, it. seemed to 
search keenly for some vestige of the human form. The 
element, however, had done its work too greedily, to have 
left many visible memorials of its fury. An object resem- 
bling that he sought, however, caught his glance; and stepping 
lightly to the spot where it lay, he raised the bone of a 
powerful arm from the brands. Tlie flashing of his eye, as 
it lighted on this sad object, was wild and exulting, like that 
of the savage when he first feels the fierce joy of glutted 
vengeance ; but gentler recollections came with the gaze, and 


228 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

uder feelings evidently usurped tlie place of tlic hatred he 
had been taught to hear a race, who were so fast sweeping 
his people from the earth. The relic fell from his hand, and 
had Ruth been there to witness the melancholy and relent- 
ing shade that clouded his swarthy features, she might have 
found pleasure in the certainty that all her kindness had not 
been wasted. 

Regret soon gave place to awe. To the imagination of 
the Indian, it seemed as if a still voice, like that which is 
believed to issue from the grave, w’as heard in the place. 
Bending his body forward, he listened with the intensity 
and acuteness of a savage. He thought the smothered 
tones of Mark Heathcote were again audible, holding com- 
munion with his God. The chisel of the Grecian would 
have loved to delineate the attitudes aitd movements of the 
wondering boy, as he slowly and reverently withdrew from 
the spot. His look was riveted on the vacancy where the 
upper apartments of the block had stood, and where he had 
last seen the family, calling in their extremity on their Deity 
for aid. Imagination still painted the victims in their 
burning pile. For a minute longer, during which brief space 
the young Indian probably expected to see some vision of 
the Pale-faces, did he linger near ; and then, with a musing 
air and softened mind, he trod lightly along the path which 
led on the trail of his people. When his active form 
reached the boundary of the forest, he again paused, and 
taking a final gaze at the place where fortune had made him 
a witness to so much domestic peace and to so much sudden 
misery, his form was quickly swallowed in the gloom of his 
native w^oods. 

The work of the savages now seemed complete. An 
effectual check appeared to be placed to the further progress 
of civilization in the ill-fated valley of the Wish -Ton-Wish. 
Had nature been left to its own work, a few years would 
have covered the deserted clearing with its ancient vegeta- 


THE WEPT OF IS H - TON-WISH. 229 

tion ; and half a century would have again buried the whole 
of its quiet glades in the shadows of the forest. But it was 
otherwise decreed. 

The sun had reached the meridian, and the hostile band 
had been gone some hours, before aught occurred likely to 
affect this seeming decision of Providence. To one 
acquainted with the recent horrors, the breathing of the airs 
over the ruins might have passed for the whisperings of de- 
parted spirits. In short, it appeared as if the silence of the 
wilderness had once more resumed its reign, when . it was 
suddenly though slightly interrupted. A movement was 
made within the ruins of the block. It sounded as if billets 
of wood were gradually and cautiously displaced, and then 
a human head was reared slowly, and with marked suspicion, 
above the shaft of the well. The wild and unearthly air of 
this seeming spectre was in keeping with the rest of the 
scene. A face begrimed with smoke and stained with blood, 
a head bound in some fragment of a soiled dress, and eyes 
that were glaring in a species of dull horror, were objects 
in unison with all the other frightful accessories of the place. 

“ What seest thou ?” demanded a deep voice from within 
the walls of the shaft. “ Shall we again come to our wea- 
pons, or have the agents of Moloch departed ? Speak, en- 
tranced youth ! what dost behold ?” 

“ A sight to make a wolf weep !” returned Eben Dudley, 
raising his large frame so as to stand erect on the shaft, 
w'here he commanded a bird’s-eye view of most of the deso- 
lation of the valley. “ Evil though it be, we may not say 
that forewarning signs have been withheld. But what is 
the cunningest man, when mortal wisdom is weighed in the 
scale ao*ainst the craft of devils ? Come forth ! Belial hath 

O 

done his w^orst, and we have a breathing-time.” 

The sounds which issued still deeper from the well de- 
noted the satisfaction with which this intelligence was 
received, no less than the alacrity with which the summons 


230 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

of the borderer was obeyed. Sundry blocks of wood and 
short pieces of plank were first passed with care up to the 
hands of Dudley, who cast them like useless lumber among 
the other ruins of the building. He then descended from 
his perch, and made room for others to follow. 

The stranger liext arose. After him came Content, the 
Puritan, Reuben Ring, and, in short, all the youths, with 
the exception of those who had unhappily fallen in the con- 
test. After these had mounted, and each in turn had leaped 
to the ground, a very brief preparation served for the 
liberation of the more feeble of the body. The readiness 
of border skill soon sufficed to arrange the necessary means. 
By the aid of chains and buckets, Ruth and the little 
Martha, Faith and all the handmaidens, without even one 
exception, were successfully drawn from the bowels of the 
earth, and restored to the light of day. It is scarcely ne- 
cessary to say to those whom experience has best fitted to 
judge of such an achievement, that no great time or labor 
was necessary for its accomplishment. 

It is not our intention to harass the feelings of the 
reader, further than is required by a simple narrative of the 
incidents of the legend. We shall therefore say nothing 
of the bodily pain, or of the mental alarm, by which this 
ingenious retreat from the flames and the tomahawk had 
been effected. The suffering was chiefly confined to appre- 
hension ; for as the descent was easy, so had the readiness 
and ingenuity of the young men found means, by the a-id 
of articles of furniture first cast into the shaft, and by 
well-secured fragments of the floors properly placed across, 
both to render the situation of the females and children less 
painful than might at first be supposed, and effectually to 
protect them from the tumbling block. But little of the 
latter, however, was likely to affect their safety, as the form 
of the building was, in itself, a sufficient security against 
the fall of its heavier parts. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 231 

The meeting of the family amid the desolation of the 
valley, though relieved by the consciousness of having 
escaped a more shocking fate, may easily be imagined. The 
first act was to render brief but solemn thanks for their 
deliverance, and then, with the promptitude of people trained 
in hardship, their attention was given to those measures 
which prudence told them were yet necessary. 

A few of the more active and experienced of the youths 
were dispatched in order to ascertain the direction taken by 
the Indians, and to gain what intelligence they might con- 
cerning their future movements. The maidens hastened to 
collect the kine, while others searched with heavy hearts 
among the ruins, in quest of such articles of food and com- 
fort as could be found, in order to administer to the first 
wants of nature. 

Two hours had effected most of that which could imme- 
diately be done in these several pursuits. The young men 
returned with the assurance that the trails announced the 
certain and final retreat of the savages. The cows had 
yielded their tribute, and such provision had been made 
against hunger as circumstances would allow. The arms 
had been examined and put, as far as the injuries they had 
received would admit, in readiness for instant service. A 
few hasty preparations had been made, in order to protect 
the females against the cool airs of the coming night ; and, 
in short, all was done that the intelligence of a border-man 
could suggest, or his exceeding readiness in expedients could 
in so brief a space supply. 

The sun began to fall towards the tops of the beeches 
that crowned the western outline of the view, before all 
these necessary arrangements were ended. It was not till 
then, however, that Reuben Ring, accompanied by another 
youth of equal activity and courage, appeared before the 
Puritan, equipped as well as men in their situation might 
be for a journey through the forest. 


232 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ Go,” said the old religionist, when the youths presented 
themselves before him — “ Go ; carry forth the tidings of this 
visitation, that men come to our succor. I ask not ven- 
geance on the deluded and heathenish imitators of the wor- 
shippers of Moloch. They have ignorantly done this evil. 
Let no man arm in behalf of the wrongs of one sinful and 
erring. Rather let them look into the secret abominations 
of their own hearts, in order that they crush the living 
worm, which, by gnawing on the seeds of a healthful hope, 
may yet destroy the fruits of the promise in their own souls. 
I would that there be profit in this example of divine dis- 
pleasure. Go — make the circuit of the settlements for some 
fifty miles, and bid such of the neighbors as may be spared, 
come to our aid. They shall be welcome ; and may it be 
long ere any of them send invitation to me or mine to enter 
their clearings on the like melancholy duty. Depart, and 
bear in mind that you are messengers of peace ; that your 
errand toucheth not the feelings of vengeance, but that it 
is succor in all fitting reason, and no arming of the hand to 
chase the savage to his reti’eats, that I ask of the brethren.” 

With this final admonition, the young men took their 
leaves. Still it was evident by their frowning brows and 
compressed lips, that some part of its forgiving principle 
might be forgotten, should chance in their journey bring 
them on the trail of any wandering inhabitant of the forest. 
In a few minutes they were seen passing with swift steps 
from the fields into the depths of the forest, along that path 
which led to the towns that lay lower on the Connecticut. 

Another task still remained to be performed. In making 
the temporary arrangements for the shelter of the family, 
attention had been first paid to the block-house. The walls 
of the basement of this building were still standing, and it 
was found easy by means of half-burnt timbers, with an 
occasional board that had escaped the conflagration, to cover 
it in a manner that offered a temporary protection against 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 233 


the weather. This simple and hasty construction, with an 
extremely inartificial office erected around the stack of a 
chimney, embraced nearly all that could be done until time 
and. assistance should enable them to commence other 
dwellings. In clearing the ruins of the little tower of its 
rubbish, the remains of those who had perished in the fray 
were piously collected. The body of the youth who had 
died in the earlier hours of the attack, was found but half 
consumed in the court, and the bones of two more who fell 
within the block, were collected from among the ruins. It 
had now become a melancholy dutv to consign them all to 
the earth with deCenf solemnity. 

The time selected for this sad office was just as the western 
horizon began to glow with that which one of our own 
poets has so beautifully termed, “ the pomp that brings and 
shuts the day.” The sun was in the tree-tops, and a softer 
or sweeter light could not have been chosen for such a cere- 
mony. Most of the fields still lay in the soft brightness of 
the hour,, though the forest was rapidly getting the more 
obscure look of night. A broad and gloomy margin was 
spreading from the boundary of the woods, and here and 
there a solitary tree cast its shadow on the meadows without 
its limits, throwing a dark .ragged line in bold relief on the 
glow of the sun’s rays. One — it was the dusky image of a 
high and waving pine, that reared its dark green pyramid 
of never-fading foliage nearly a hundred feet above the 
humbler growth of beeches — cast its shade to the side of the 
eminence of the block. Here the pointed extremity of the 
shadow was seen, stealing slowly towards the open grave, — 
an emblem of that oblivion in which its humble tenants were 
so shortly to be wrapped. 

At this spot Mark Heathcote and his remaining com- 
panions had assembled. An oaken chair saved from the 
flames was the seat of the father, and two parallel benches 
formed of planks placed on stones, held the other members 




234 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

of the family. The grave lay between. The patriarch had 
taken his station at one of its ends, while the stranger, so 
often named in these pages, stood with folded arms and a 
thoughtful brow at the other. The bridle of a horse capari- 
soned in that imperfect manner which the straitened means 
of the borderers now rendered necessary, was hanging from 
one of the half-burnt palisadoes, in the background. 

“ A just, but a merciful hand hath been laid heavily on 
my household,” commenced the old Puritan, with the calmness 
of one who had long been accustomed to chasten his regrets 
by humility. “ He that hath given freely, hath taken away, 
and One that hath long smiled upon my weakness, hath now 
veiled his face in anger. I have known him in his power 
to bless. It was meet that I should see him in his displea- 
sure. A heart that was waxing confident, would have hard- 
ened in its pride. At that which hath befallen, let no man 
murmur. Let none imitate the speech of her who spoke 
foolishly: ‘What! shall we receive good at the hand of 
God, and shall we not receive evil V I would that the feeble- 
minded of the world — they that jeopard the soul on vanities, 
they that look with scorn on the neediness of the flesh — might 
behold the riches of One steadfast. I would that they might 
know the consolation of the righteous ! Let the voice of 
thanksgiving be heard in the wilderness. Open thy mouths 
in praise, that the gratitude of a penitent be not hid 

As the deep tones of the speaker ceased, his stern eye fell 
upon the features of the nearest youth, and it seemed to 
demand an audible response to his own lofty expression of 
resignation. But the sacrifice exceeded the power of the 
individual to whom had been made this silent, but intelligi- 
ble appeal. After regarding the relics that lay at his feet, 
casting a wandering glance at the desolation which had 
swept over a place his own hand had helped to decorate, 
and receiving a renewed consciousness of his own bodily 
suffering in the shooting pain of his wounds, the young bor- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 


285 


dercr averted his look^and seemed to recoil from so officious 
a display of submission. Observing his inability to reply, 
Mark continued — 

“ Hath no one a voice to praise the Lord ? The bands of 
the heathen have fallen upon my herds ; the brand hath 
been kindled within my dwellings; my people have died by 
the violence of the unenlightened, and none arc here to say 
that the Lord is just ! I would that the shouts of thanks- 
giving should arise in my fields ! T would that the song of 
praise should grow louder than the whoop of the savage, 
and that all the land might speak joyfulness !” 

A long, deep, and expecting pause succeeded. Then 
Content rejoined, in his quiet tones, speaking firmly, but 
with the modest utterance he rarely failed to use — 

“ The hand that hath held the balance is just,” he said, 
“and we have been found wantiiiiy. He that made the wdl- 
derness blossom, hath caused the ignorant and the barbarous 
to be the instruments of his will. He hath arrested the 
season of our prosperity, that we may know he is the Lord. 
He hath spoken in the whirlwind, but his mercy granteth 
that our ears shall know his voice.” 

As his son ceased, a gleam of satisfaction shot across the 
countenance of the Puritan. His eye next turned inqui- 
ringly towards Ruth, who sat among her maidens the 
image of womanly sorrow. Common interest seemed to 
still the breathing of the little assembly, and sympathy was 
quite as active as curiosity, when each one present suffered 
a glance to steal towards her benignant but pallid face. The 
eye of the mother was gazing earnestly, but without a tear, 
on the melancholy spectacle before her. It unconsciously 
sought among the dried and shrivelled remnants of morta- 
lity that lay at her feet, some relic of the cherub she had 
lost. A shudder and struggle followed, after which her gen- 
tle voice breathed so low that those nearest her person could 
scarce distinguish the words — 


236 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - I S H . 

“ The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed 
be his holy name !” 

“ Now know I that he who hath smote me, is merciful ; 
for ho chasteneth them ho loveth,” said Mark Heathcote, 
rising with dignity to address his household. “ Our life is a 
life of pride. The young are wont to wax insolent, while 
he of many years saith to his own heart, ‘ it is good to be 
hero.’ There is a fearful mystery in One who sitteth on 
hiofh. The heavens are His throne, and He hath created 
the earth for his footstool. Let not the vanity of the weak 
of mind presume to understand it; for ‘who that hath the 
breath of life, lived before the hills ?’ .The bonds of the evil 
one, of Satan, and of the sons of Belial, have been loosened, 
that the faith of the elect may be purified, that the names of 
those written since the foundation of the earth were laid, 
may be read in letters of pure gold. The time of man is 
but a moment in the reckoning of Him whose life is eter- 
nity — earth the habitation of a season ! The bones of the 
bold,' of the youthful, and of the strong of yesterday, lie at 
our feet. None know what an hour may bring forth. In a 
single night, my children, hath this been done. They whose 
voices were heard in my halls, are now speechless, and they 
who so lately rejgiced, are sorrowing. Yet hath this seem- 
ing evil been ordered that good may come thereof. We are 
dwellers in a wild and distant land,” he continued, insensibly 
permitting his thoughts to incline towards the more mourn- 
ful details of their affliction. “ Our earthly home is afar off. 
Hither have -we been led by the flaming pillar of Truth, 
and yet the maljce of the persecutors hath not forgotten to 
follow. One houseless, and sought like the hunted deer, is 
again driven to flee. We have the canopy of the stars for a 
roof. None may tarry longer to worship secretly within our 
walls. But the path of the faithful, though full of thorns, 
leadeth to quiet, and the final rest of the just man can never 
know alarm. He that hath borne hunger and thirst, and the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 237 

pains of the flesh, for the sake of truth, knoweth how to be 
satisfied ; nor will the hours of bodily sufiering be accounted 
weary to him whose goal is the peace of the righteous.” 
The strong lineaments of the stranger grew even more than 
usually austere, and as the Puritan continued, the hand 
which rested on the handle of a pistol, grasped the weapon 
until the fingers seemed imbedded in the w'oocl. He bowed, 
however, as if to acknowledge the personal allusion, and 
remained silent. 

“If any mourn the early death of those who have ren- 
dered up their being, struggling, as it may be permitted, in 
behalf of life and dwelling,” continued Mark Heathcote, 
regarding a female near him, “ let her remember, that from 
the beginning of the world were his days numbered, and 
that not a sparrow falleth without answering the ends of 
wisdom. Bather let the fulfilment of things remind us of 
the vanity of life, that we may learn how easy it is to 
become immortal. If the youth hath been cut down, 
seemingly like unripened grass, he hath fallen by the sidBe 
of one who knoweth best when to begin the in-gathering of 
the harvest to his eternal garners. Though a spirit bound 
unto his, as one feeble is wont to lean on the strength of 
man and mourn over his fall, let her sorrow be mingled 
with rejoicing.” A convulsive sob broke out of the bosom 
of the handmaiden who was known to have been affianced 
to one of the dead, and for a moment the address of Mark 
was interrupted. But when silence again ensued, he con- 
tinued, the subject leading him, by a transition that was 
natural, to allude to his own sorrows. “ Death hath been 
no stranger in my habitation,” he said.* “ His shaft fell 
heaviest when it struck her, who, like those that have Iiere 
fallen, was in the pride of her youth, and when her soul was 
glad with the first joy of the birth of a man-child ! Thou 
who sittest on high !” he added, turning a glazed and tear- 
less eye to heaven ; “ thou knowest how heavy was that 


238 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

blow, and thou hast written down the strivings of an op* 
pressed soul. The burden was not. found too heavy for 
endurance. The sacrifice hath not sufficed ; the world was 
again getting uppermost in my heart. Thou didst bestow 
an imao*e of that innocence and loveliness that dwelleth in 

O 

the skies, and this hast thou taken away, that we might 
know thy power. To this judgment we bow. If thou hast 
called our child to the mansions of bliss, she is wholly thine, 
and we presume not to complain ; but if thou hasristill left 
her to wander further in the pilgrimage of life, we confide 
in thy goodness. She is of a long-suffering race, and thou 
wilt not desert her to the blindness of the heathen. She is 
thine, she is wholly thine. King of Heaven ! and yet hast 
thou permitted our hearts to yearn towards her, with the 
fondness of earthly love. We await some further mani- 
festation of thy will, that we may know whether the foun- 
tains of our affection shall be dried in the certainty of her 
blessedness — (scalding tears were rolling down the cheeks 
of the pallid and immovable mother) “ or whether hope, 
nay, whether duty to Thee calleth for the interference of 
those bound to her in the tenderness of the. flesh. W^hen 
the blow was heaviest on the bruised spirit of a lone and 
solitary wanderer, in a strange and savage land, he held not 
back the offspring it was thy will to grant him in the place 
of her called to thyself ; and now that the child hath 
become a man, he too layeth, like Abraham of old, the 
infant of his love, a willing offering at thy feet. Do with it 
as to thy never-failing wisdom seemeth best.” The words 
were interrupted by a heavy groan, that burst from the 
chest of Content. A deep silence ensued, but when the 
assembly ventured to throw looks of sympathy and awe at 
the bereaved father, they saw that he had arisen and stood 
gazing steadily at the speaker, as if he wondered, equally 
\vith the others, whence such a sound of sufiering could 
have come. The Puritan renewed the subject, but his voice 


THE WEPT, OF WISH-TON-WISH. 239 

faltered, and for an instant, as he proceeded, liis hearers 
were oppressed with the spectacle of an aged and dignified 
man shaken with grief. Conscious of his weakness, the old 
man ceased speaking in exhortation, and addressed himself 
to prayer. While thus engaged, his tones again became 
clear, firm, and distinct, and the petition was ended in the 
midst of a deep and holy calm. 

With the performance • of this preliminary office, the 
simple ceremony was brought to its close. The remains 
were lowered, in solemn silence, into the grave, and the 
earth was soon replaced by the young men. Mark Heath- 
cote then invoked alpud the blessing of God on his house- 
hold, and bowing in person, as he had before done in spirit, 
to the will of Heaven, he motioned to the family to withdraw. 

The interview that succeeded was over the resting-place 
of the dead. The hand of the stranger was firmly clenched 
in that of the Puritan, and the stern self-command of both 
appeared to give way, before the regrets of a friendship that 
had endured through so many trying scenes. 

“ Thou knowest that I may not tarry,” said the former, as 
if lie replied to some expressed wish of his companion. 
“ They would make me a sacrifice to the Moloch of their 
vanities ; and yet would I fain abide, until the weight of 
this heavy blow may be forgotten. I found thee in peace, 
and I quit thee in the depths of suffering !” 

“ Tliou distrustest me, or thou dost injustice to thine own 
belief,” interrupted the Puritan, with a smile, that shone on 
his haggard and austere visage, as the rays of the setting 
sun light a wintry cloud. “ Seemed I happier when this 
hand placed that of a loved bride into mine own, than thou 
now seest me in this wilderness, houseless, stripped of my 
wealth, and, God forgive the ingratitude .' but I had almost 
said, childless ! No, indeed, thou mayest not tarry, for the 
blood-hounds of tyranny will be on their scent; here is 
shelter no longer.” 


240 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

The eyes of both turned, by a common and melancholy 
feeling, towards the ruin of the block. The stranger then 
pressed the hand of his friend in both his own, and said in 
.a struggling voice — 

“ Mark Heathcote, adieu ! He that had a roof for the per- 
secuted wanderer shall not long be houseless ; neither shall 
the resigned for ever know sorrow.” 

His words sounded in the ears of his companion like the 
revelation of a prophecy. They again pressed their hands 
together, and, regarding each other with looks in which kind- 
ness could not be altogether smothered by the repulsive cha- 
racter of an acquired air, they parted. The Puritan slowly 
took his way to the dreary shelter which covered his family ; 
while the stranger was shortly after seen urging the beast 
he had mounted, across the pastures of the valley, towards 
one of the most retired paths of the wilderness. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 241 


CHAPTER XVII. 

“ Together towards the village then we walked. 

And of old friends and places much we talked ! 

And who had died, who left them, would he tell; 

And who still in their father’s mansion dwell.” 

Dana. 

\ 

We leave the imagination of the reader to supply an 
interval of several years. Before the thread of the narra- 
tive shall be resumed, it will he necessary to take another 
hasty view of the condition of the country in which the 
scene of our legend had place. 

The exertions of the provincials were no longer limited to 
the first efforts of a colonial existence. The establishments 
of New-England had passed the ordeal of experiment, and 
were become permanent. Massachusetts was already popu- 
lous ; and Connecticut, the colony with which we have 
more immediate connexion, was sufficiently peopled to 
manifest a portion of that enterprise which has since made 
her active, little community so remarkable. The effects of 
these increased exertions were becoming extensively visible ; 
and we shall endeavor to set one of these changes, as dis- 
tinctly as our feeble powers will allow, before the eyes of 
those who read these pages. 

When compared with the progress of society in the 
other hemisphere, the condition of what is called in America 
a new settlement, becomes anomalous. There, the arts of 
life have been the fruits of an intelligence that has pro- 
gressively accumulated with the advancement of civilization ; 
while here, improvement is in a great degree the consequence 

11 


242 THE WEPT OF W I S H - JT O N - W I S H . 

of experience elsewhere acquired. Necessity, prompted by 
an understanding of its wants, incited by a commendable 
spirit of emulation, and encouraged by liberty, early gave 
birth to those improvements which have converted a wilder- 
ness into the abodes of abundance and security, with a 
rapidity that wears the appearance of magic. Industry has 
wrought with the confidence of knowledge, and the result 
has been peculiar. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that in a country where 
the laws favor all commendable enterprise, where unneces- 
sary artificial restrictions are unknown, and w'here the hand 
of man has not yet exhausted its efforts, the adventurer 
is allowed the greatest freedom of choice in selecting the 
"field of his enterprise. The, agriculturist passes the heath 
and the barren, to seat himself on the river-bottom ; the 
trader looks for the site of demand and supply ; and the 
artisan quits his native village to seek employment in 
situations w'here labor will meet its fullest reward. It is a 
consequence of this extraordinary freedom cf election, that, 
while the great picture of American society has been 
sketched with so much boldness, a large portion of the 
filling-up still remains to be done. The emigrant has con- 
sulted his immediate interests ; and, while no very extensive 
and profitable territory throughout the w^hole of our immense 
possessions has been wholly neglected, neither has any par- 
ticular district yet attained the finish of improvement. The 
city is even now seen in the wilderness, and the wilderness 
often continues near the city, while the latter is sending 
forth its swarms to distant scenes of industry. After thirty 
years of fostering care on the part of the government, the 
Capital itself presents its disjointed and sickly villages in the 
centre of the deserted “ old fields” of Maryland, Avhile num- 
berless youthful rivals are flourishing on the w'aters of the 
West, in spots where the bear has ranged and the wolf 
howled, long since the former has been termed a city. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 243 

Thus it is that high civilization, a state of infant existence, 
and positive barbarity, are often brought so near each other 
within the borders of this Republic. The traveller who has 
passed the night in an inn that would not disgrace the 
oldest country in Europe, may be compelled to dine in the 
shantee^ of a hunter; the smooth and gravelled road some- 
times ends in an impassable swamp ; the spires of the town 
are often hid by the branches of a tangled forest, and the 
canal leads to a seemingly barren and unprofitable moun- 
tain. He that does not return to see what another year 
may bring forth, commonly bears away from these scenes 
recollections that conduce to error. To see America with 
the eyes of truth, it is necessary to look often ; and in order 
to understand the actual condition of these states, it should 
be remembered that it is equally unjust to believe that all 
the intermediate points partake of the improvements of par- 
ticular places, as to infer the want of civilization at more 
remote establishments, from a few unfavorable facts gleaned 
near the centre. By an accidental concurrence of moral 
and physical causes, much of that equality which dis- 
tinguishes the institutions of the country is extended to the 
progress of society over its whole surface. 

Although the impetus of improvement was, not so great 
in the time of Mark Heathcote as m our own days, the 
principle of its power was actively in existence. • Of this 
fact we shall furnish a sufficient evidence, by pursuing our 
intention of describing one of those changes to which 
allusion has already been made. 

* Shanty, or Shantee, is a word much used in the newer settlements. 
It strictly means a rude cabin of bark and brush, such as is often 
erected in the forest for temporary purposes. But the borderers 
often quaintly apply it to their own habitations. The only deriva- 
tion which the writer has heard for this American word, is one that 
supposes it to be a corruption of Chiente, a term said to be used 
among the Canadians to express a dog-kennel. 


244 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

The reader will remember that the age of which we . 
write had advanced into the last quarter of the seventeenth 
century. The precise moment at which the action of the 
tale must re-commence, was that period of the day when 
the grey of twiliglit was redeeming objects from the deep 
darkness with which the night draws to its close. The 
month was June, and the scene such as it may be necessary 
to describe with some particularity. 

Had there been light, and had one been favorably placed 
to enjoy a bird’s-eye view of the spot, he would have seen 
a broad and undulating field of leafy forest, in which the 
various deciduous trees of New England were relieved by 
the deeper verdure of occasional masses of evergreens. In 
the centre of this swelling and nearly interminable outline 
of woods, was a valley that spread between three low 
mountains. Over the bottom land, for the distance of 
several miles, all the signs of a settlement in a state of 
rapid and prosperous improvement were visible. The 
devious course of a deep and swift brook, that in the other 
hemisphere would have been termed a rivenj was to be 
traced through the meadows by its borders of willow and 
sumach. At a point near the centre of the valley the ■ 
waters had been arrested by a small dam ; and a mill, whose 
wheel at that early hour was without motion, stood on the 
artificial mound. Near it was the site of a New England 
hamlet. 

The number of dwellings in the village might have been 
forty. They were, as usual, constructed of a firm frame-work, 
neatly covered with sidings of boards. There was a sur- 
prising air of equality in the general aspect of the houses ; 
and, if there were question of any country but our own, 
it might be added there was an unusual appearance of com- 
fort and abundance in even the humblest of them all. They 
were mostly of two low stories, the superior overhanging 
the inferior by a foot or two ; a mode of construction much 


THE WEPT OF WISH -TON-WISH. 


245 


in use in the earlier days of the Eastern Colonies. As 
paint was hut little used at that time, none of the buildings 
exhibited a color different from that the wood would natu- 
rally assume after the exposure of a few years to the 
weather. Each had its single chimney in the centre of the 
roof, and but two or three showed more than a solitary 
window on each side of the principal or outer door. In 
front of every dwelling was a small neat court, in green 
•sward, separated from the public road by a light fence of 
deal. Double rows of young and vigorous elms lined each 
side of the wide street, while an enormous sycamore still 
kept possession of the spot in its centre which it had oc- 
cupied when the white man entered the forest. Beneath 
the shade of this tree the inhabitants often collected to 
gather tidings of each other’s welfare, or to listen to some 
matter of interest that rumor had borne from the towns 
nearer the sea. A narrow and little-used wheel track ran 
with a graceful and sinuous route through the centre of the 
wide and grassy street. Reduced in appearance to little 
more than a bridle-path, it was to be traced without the 
hamlet, between high fences of wood for a mile or two, to 
the points where it entered the forest. Here and there 
roses were pressing through the openings of the fences 
before the doors of the different habitations, and bushes of 
fragrant lilacs stood in the angles of most of the courts. 

The dwellings were detached. Each occupied its own 
insulated plot of ground, with a garden in its rear. The 
out-buildings were thrown to that distance which the cheap- 
ness of land and security from fire rendered both easy and 
expedient. . 

The church stood in the centre of the highway, and near 
one end of the hamlet. In the exterior and ornaments of 
the important temple, the taste of the times had been fastidi- 
ously consulted, its form and simplicity furnishing no slight 
resemblance to the self-denying doctrines and quaint humors 


246 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

of the religionists who worshipped beneath its roof. The 
building, like all the rest, Avas of wood, and externally of 
two stories. It possessed a tower, Avithont a spire — the 
former alone ser\dng to denote its sacred character. In the 
construction of this edifice, especial care had been taken to 
escheAA^ all deAuations from direct lines and right * angles. 
Those narroAA^-arched passages for the adrnission of light 
that are elseAvhere so common, Avere then thought by the 
stern moralists of New-England to haA^e some mysterious 
connexion Avith her of the scarlet mantle. The priest AV'ould 
as soon haA^e thought of appearing before his flock in the 
vanities of stole and cassock, as the congregation of admit- 
ting the repudiated ornaments into the outline of their severe 
architecture. Had the Genii of the Lamp suddenly exchanged 
the AvindoAA^s of the sacred edifice with those of the inn that 
stood nearly opposite, the closest critic of the settlement 
could never have detected the liberty, since, in the form, 
dimensions, and style of the tAvo, there Avas no visible differ- 
ence. 

A little inclosure at no great distance from the church, 
and on one *side of the street, had been set apart for the 
final resting-place of those Avho had finished their race on 
earth. It contained but a solitary grave. 

The inn Avas to be distinguished from the surrounding 
buildings, by its superior size, an open horse-shed, and a 
sort of protruding air Avith Avhich it thrust itself on the line 
of the street, as if to invite the traveller to enter. A sign 
swung on a galloAvs-looking post, that, in consequence of 
frosty nights and warm days, had already deviated from the 
perpendicular. It bore a conceit that at the first glance 
might have gladdened the heart of a naturalist with the 
belief that he had made the discovery of some unknoAvn 
bird. The artist, hoAvever, had sufficiently provided against 
the consequences of so embarrassing a blunder, by consider- 
ately writing beneath the offspring of his pencil, “ This is 


247 




THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

the sign . of the Whip-Poor-Will a name that the most 
unlettered traveller in those regions would he likely to know 
was yulgarly given to the Wish-Ton- Wish, or the American 
night-hawk. 

But few relics of the forest remained immediately around 
the hamlet. The trees had long been felled, and sufficient 
time had elapsed to remove most of the vestiges of their 
former existence. But as the eye receded from the cluster 
of buildings, the signs of more recent inroads on the wilder- 
ness became apparent, until the view terminated with open- 
ings, in which piled logs and mazes of felled trees announced 
the recent use of the f\,xe. 

At that early day, the American husbandman, like the 
agriculturists of most of Europe, dwelt in his village. The 
dread of violence from the savages had given rise to a cus- 
tom similar to that which centuries before had been pro- 
duced in the other hemisphere by the inroads of more pre- 
tending barbarians, and which, with few and distant excep- 
tions, has deprived rural scenery of a charm that, it would 
seem, time and a better condition of society are. slow to 
repair. Some remains of this ancient practice are still to be 
traced in the portion of the Union of which we write, where 
even at this day the farmer often quits the village to seek 
his scattered fields in its neighborhood. Still, as man has 
never been the subject of a system here, and as each indi- 
vidual has always had the liberty of consulting his own tem- 
per, bolder spirits early began to break through a practice, 
by which quite as much was lost in convenience as was 
gained in security. Even in the scene we have been describ- 
ing, ten or twelve humble habitations were distributed among 
the recent clearings on the side of the mountains, and in 
situations too remote to promise much security against any 
sudden inroad of the common enemy. 

For general protection, in cases of the last extremity, how- 
ever, a stockaded dwelling, not unlike that which we have 


•» 

248 THE WEFT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

had occasion to describe in our earlier pages, stood in a 
convenient spot near the hamlet. Its defences were stronger 
and more elaborate than usual, the pickets being furnished 
with flanking block-houses; and, in other respects, the 
building bore the aspect of a work equal to any resistance 
that might be required in the warfare of those regions. The 
ordinary habitation of the priest was within its gates ; and 
hither most of the sick were timely conveyed, in order to 
anticipate the necessity of removals at more inconvenient 
moments. 

It is scarcely necessary to tell the American, that heavy 
wooden fences subdivided the whole of this little landscape 
into inclosures of some eight or ten acres in extent ; that, 
here and there, cattle and flocks were grazing without herds- 
men or shepherds, and that while the fields nearest to the 
dwellings were beginning to assunle the appearance of a 
careful and improved husbandry, those more remote became 
gradually wilder and less cultivated, until the half-reclaimed 
openings, with their blackened stubs and barked trees, were 
blended with the gloom of the living forest. These are more 
or less the accompaniments of every rural scene in districts 
of the country where time has not yet effected more than 
the first twcrstages of improvement. 

At the distance of a short half-mile from the fortified 
house, or garrison, as by a singular corruption of terms the 
stockaded building was called, stood a dwelling of preten- 
sions altogether superior to any in the hamlet. The build- 
ings in question, though simple, were extensive ; and though 
scarcely other than such as might belong to an agriculturist 
in easy circumstances, still they were' remarkable in that 
settlement, by the comforts which time alone could accu- 
mulate, and some of which denoted an advanced condition 
for a frontier family. In short, there was an air about the 
establishment, as in the disposition of its out-buildings, in the 
superior workmanship, in the materials, and in numberless 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 249 


other well hnown circumstances, which went to show that 
the whole of the edifices were re-constructions. The fields 
near this habitation exhibited smoother surfaces than those 
in the distance. The fehces were lighter and less rude ; the 
stumps had absolutely disappeared ; and the gardens and 
homestead were well planted with flourishing fruit-trees. A 
conical eminence arose at a short distance in the rear of the 
principal dwelling. It was covered with that beautiful and 
peculiar ornament of an American farm, a regular, thrifty, 
and luxuriant apple-orchard. Still, age had not given its 
full beauty to the plantation, which might have had a growth 
of some eight or ten yeais. A blackened tower of stone, 
■which sustained the charred ruins of a superstructure of 
wood, though of no great height in itself, rose above the tallest 
of the trees, and stood a sufficient memorial of some scene 
of violence in the brief history of the valley. There was 
also a small block-house near the habitation ; but, by the 
air of neglect that reigned around, it was quite apparent the 
little work had been of a hurried construction, and of but 
temporary use. A few young plantations of fruit-trees were 
also to be seen in different parts of the valley, which was 
beginning to exhibit many other evidences of an improved 
agriculture. 

So far as all these artificial changes wen*, they were of an 
English character. But it was England devoid alike of its 
luxury and its poverty, and with a superfluity of space that 
gave to the meanest habitation in the view, an air of abun- 
dance and comfort that is so often wanting about the 
dwellings of the comparatively rich, in countries where man 
is found bearing a far greater numerical proportion to the 
soil than w^as then, or is even now the case, in the regions 
of which we write. 


11 ^ 


250 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


“Come hither, neighbor Sea-coal— God hath blessed yon with a good name ; to 
be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune ; hut to write and read comes by 
Nature.” 

Much Ado about Nothing. 


It has already been said, that the hour at which the 
action of the tale must re-commence, was early morning. 
The usual coolness of night, in a country extensively cover- 
ed with wood, had passed, and the warmth of a summer 
morning, in that low latitude, was causing the streaks of 
light vapor, that floated about the meadows, to rise above 
the trees. The feathery patches united to form a cloud that 
sailed away towards the summit of a distant mountain, 
which appeared to be a common rendezvous for all the 
mists that had been generated by the past hours of dark- 
ness. 

Though the burnished sky announced his neaP approach, 
the sun was not “^et visible. Notwithstanding the earliness 
of the hour, a man was already mounting a little ascent in 
the road, at no great distance from the southern entrance 
of the hamlet, and at a point where he could command a 
view of all the objects described in the preceding chapter. 
A musket thrown across his left shoulder, with the horn 
and pouch at his sides, together with the little wallet at his 
back, proclaimed him one who had either been engaged 
in a hunt, or in some short expedition of even a less 
peaceable character. His dress was of the usual material 
and fashion of a countryman of the age and colony, though 
a short broadsword, that was thrust through a wampum 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 251 

belt which girded his body, might have attracted observa- 
tion. In all other respects, he had the air of an inhabitant 
of the hamlet, who had found occasion to quit his abode on 
some affair of pleasure or of duty, that had made no very 
serious demand on his time. • 

Whether native or stranger, few ever passed the hillock 
^ named, without pausing to gaze at the quiet loveliness of the 
cluster of houses that lay in full view from its summit. The 
individual mentioned loitered as usual, but, instead of fol- 
lowing the line of the path, his eye rather sought some 
object in the direction of the fields. Moving leisurely to 
the nearest ffnce, he threw down the upper rails of a pair 
of bars, and beckoned to a horseman, who was picking his. 
way across a broken bit of pasture land, to enter the high- 
way by the passage he had opened. 

“ Put the spur smartly into the pacer’s flank,” said he 
who had done this act of civility, observing that the other 
hesitated to urge his beast across the irregular and some- 
what scattered pile ; “my word for it, the jade goes over 
them all, without touching with more than three of her four 
feet. Fie, doctor ! there is never a cow in the Wish-Ton- 
Wish, but it would take the leap to be in the first at the 
milking.” 

“ Softly, Ensign,” returned the timid equestrian, laying 
the emphasis on the final syllable of his companion’s title, 
and pronouncing the first as if it were spelt with the third 
instead of the second vowel. “ Thy courage is meet for one 
set apart for deeds of valor, but it would be a sorrowful day 
when the ailing of the valley should knock at my door, and 
a broken limb be made the apology for want of succor. Thy 
efforts will not avail thee, man ; for the mare hath had 
schooling, as well as her master I have trained the beast 
to methodical habits, and she hath come to have a rooted 
dislike to all irregularities of movement. So, cease tugging 
at the rein, as if thou wouldst compel her to pass the pile 


252 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

in spite of lier teeth, and throw down the upper bar altoge- 
ther.” 

“ A doctor in these rugged parts should be mounted on 
one of those ambling birds of which we read,” said the other, 
removing the obstacle to, the secure passage of his friend; 
“ for truly a journey at night, in the paths of these clearings, 
is not always as safe moving as that which' is said to be en- 
joyed by the settlers nearer sea.” 

“ And where hast found mention of a bird of a size and 
velocity fit to be the bearer of the weight of a man ?” 
demanded he who was mounted, with a vivacity that betray- 
ed some jealousy on the subject of a monopoly of learning. 

I had thought there was never a book in the valley, out of 
mine own closet, that dealeth in these abstrusities !” 

“ Dost think the scriptures are strangers to us ? There — 
thou art now in the public path, and thy journey is without 
danger. It is matter of marvel to many in this settlement, 
how thou movest about at midnight, amongst upturned roots 

of trees, holes, logs and stumps, without falling ” 

“ I have told thee. Ensign, it is by virtue of much train- 
ing given to the beast. Certain am I, that neither wEip 
nor spur would compel the animal to pass the bounds of 
discretion. Often have I travelled this bridle-path, without 
fear as in truth without danger, when sight was a sense of 
as little use as that of smelling.” , 

“ I was about to say falling into thine own hands, which 
would be a tiunble of little less jeopardy than even that of 
the wicked spirits.” 

The medical man affected to laugh at his companion’s 
joke; but, remembering the dignity suited to one of his 
calling, he immediately resumed the discourse with gravity — 
“ These may be matters of levity with those who know 
little of the hardships that are endured in the practice of the 
settlements. Here have I been on yonder mountain, guided 
by the instinct of my horse ” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


253 


“Ha! hath there been a call at the dwelling of my 
brother Ring ?” demanded the pedestrian, observing, by the 
direction of the other’s eye, the road he had been travelling. 

“ Truly, there hath ; and at the unseasonable hour that is 
wont in a very unreasonable proportion of the cases of my 
practice.” 

“ And Reuben numbereth another boy to ,the four that he 
could count yesterday ?” 

The medical man held up three of his fingers, in a signifi- 
cant manner, as he nodded assent. 

“Thisputteth Faith something in arrears,” returned ho 
who has been called Rnsign, and who was no other than the 
reader’s old acquaintance Eben Dudley, preferred to that 
station in the train-band of the valley. “.The heart of my 
brother Reuben will be gladdened by these tidings when he 
shall return from the scout.” 

“There will be occasion for thankfulness, since he will 
find seven beneath a roof where he left but four !” 

“ I will close the bargain with the young captain for the 
mountain lot this very day !” muttered Dudley, like one 
suddenly convinced of the prudence of a long-debated 
measure. “Seven pounds of the colony money is no 
usurer’s price, after all, for a hundred acres of heavily-tim- 
bered land; and they in full view of a settlement where 
boys come three at a time 1” 

The equestrian stopped his horse, and regarding his com- 
panion intently and with a significant air, he answered — 

“ Thou hast now fallen on the clue of an important mys- 
tery, Ensign Dudley. This continent was created with a 
design. The fact is apparent by its riches, its cljmate, its 
magnitude, its facilities of navigation, and chiefly in that* it 
hath been left undiscovered until the advanced condition of 
society hath given opportunity and encouragement to men 
of a certain degree of merit .to adventure in its behalf. Con- 
sider, neighbor, the wonderful progress it hath already made 


254 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

in the arts and in learning, in reputation and in resources, 
and thou wilt agree with me in the conclusion that all this 
hath been done with a design.” 

“’Twould be presuming to doubt it; for he hath indeed 
a short memory to whom it shall be necessary to recall the 
time when this very valley was little other than a den for 
beasts of prey, and this beaten highway a deer-track. Dost 
think that Reuben will be like to raise the whole of the 
recent gift ?” 

“With judgment, and by the blessing of Providence. 
The mind is active. Ensign Dudley, when the body is jour- 
neying among the forests; and much have my thoughts 
been exercised in this matter, whilst thou and others have 
been in your slumbers. Here have we the colonies in their 
first century, and yet thou knowest to what a pass of 
improvement they have arrived. They tell me the Hartford 
settlement is getting to be apportioned like the towns of 
mother England, that there is reason to think the day may 
come when the provinces shall have a power, and a conveni- 
ence of culture and communication, equalling that which 
belongeth to some parts of the venerable island itself!” 

“ Nay, nay. Dr. Ergot,” returned the other with an incre- 
dulous smile, “ that is exceeding the bounds of a discretion- 
able expectation!” 

“ Thou wilt remember that I said equalling to certain 
parts. I think we may justly imagine, that ere many cen- 
turies shall elapse, there may be millions coimted in these 
regions, and truly that, too, where one seeth naught at pre- 
sent but the savage and the beast.” 

“ I will go with any man, in this question, as far as rea- 
son will justify ; but doubtless thou hast read in the books 
uttered by writers over sea, the matters concerning the con- 
dition of those countries, wherein it is plain that we may 
never hope to reach the exalted excellence- they enjoy.” 

“ Neighbor Dudley, thou seemest disposed to push an 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 255 


unguarded expression to extremity. I said equalling cer- 
tain parts, meaning always, too, in certain things. Now it 
is known in philosophy, that the stature of man hath dege- 
nerated, and must degenerate in these regions, in obedience 
to established laws of nature ; therefore it is meet that 
allowance should be made for some deficiency in less mate- 
rial qualities.” 

“ It is like, then, that the better sort of the men over sea 
are ill-disposed to quit their country,” returned the Ensign, 
glancing an eye of some unbelief along the muscular pro- 
portions of his own vigorous frame. “We have no less 
than three from the old countries in our village, here, and 
yet I do not find them men like to have been sought for at 
the building of Babel.” 

“ This is settling a knotty and learned point by the evi- 
dence of a few shallow exceptions. I presume to tell you. 
Ensign Dudley, that the science, and wisdom, and philoso- 
phy of Europe, have been exceeding active in this matter ; 
and they have proved to their own perfect satisfaction, 
which is the same thing as disposing of the question with- 
out appeal, that man and beast, plant and tree, hill and 
dale, lake and pond, sun, air, fire and water, are all wanting 
in some of tho perfectness of the older regions. I respect a 
patriotic sentiment, and can carry the disposition to applaud 
the bounties received from the hands of a beneficent Creator 
as far as any man ; but that which hath been demonstrated 
by science, or. collected by learning, is placed too far beyond 
the objections of light-minded cavillers, to be doubted by 
graver faculties.” 

“ I shall not contend against things that are proven,” re- 
turned Dudley, who was quite as meek in discussion as he 
was powerful and active in more physical contests ; “ since 
it needs be that the learning of men in the old countries 
must have an exceeding excellence, in virtue of its great 
age. It would be a visit to remember, should some of its 


256 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

rare advantages be dispersed in these our own youthful 
regions !” 

“ And can it be said that our mental wants have been 
forgotten — that the nakedness of the mind hath been suf- 
fered to go without its comely vestment, neighbor Dudley ? 
To me it seemeth that therein we have unwonted reason 
to rejoice, and that the equilibrium of nature is in a manner 
restored by the healing exercises of art. It is unseemly in 
an unenlightened province to insist on qualities that have 
been discreetly disproven ; but learning is a transferable and 
communicable gift, and it is meet to affirm th,at it is to be 
found here, in quantities adapted to the wants of the colony.” 

“ I’ll not gainsay it, for having been more of an adven- 
turer in the forest than one who hath travelled in quest of 
sights among the settlements along the sea-shore, it may 
happen that many things are to be seen there, of which my 
poor abilities have formed no opinion.” 

“ And are we utterly unenlightened, even in this distant 
valley. Ensign ?” returned the leech, leaning over the neck 
of his horse, and addressing his companion in a mild and 
persuasive tone, that he had probably acquired in his exten- 
sive practice among the females of the settlement. “ Are 
we to be classed with the heathen in knowledge, or to be 
accounted as the unnurtured men who are known once to 
have roamed through these forests in quest of their game ? 
Without assuming any infallibility of judgment, or aspiring 
to any peculiarity of information, it doth not appear to my 
defective understanding. Master Dudley, that the progress 
of the settlement hath ever been checked for want of neces- 
sary foresight, nor that the growth of reason among us hath 
ever been stunted from any lack of mental aliment. Our 
councils are not barren of wisdom. Ensign, nor hath it often 
arrived that abstrusities have been propounded, that some 
one intellect, to say no more in our own favor, hath not 
been known to grapple with successfully.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


251 


“ That there are men, or perhaps I ought to say that 
there is a man^ in the valley, who is equal to many marvels 
in the way of enlightened gifts ” 

“ I knew we should come to peaceable conclusions. En- 
sign Dudley,” interrupted the other, rising erect in his sad- 
dle, with an air of appeased dignity; “for I have ever 
found you a discreet and consequent reasoner, and one who 
is never known to resist conviction, when truth is pressed 
with understanding. That the men from over sea are not 
often so well gifted as some — we will say, for the sake of a 
convenient illustration, as thyself. Ensign — is placed beyond 
the reach of debate, since sight teacheth us that numberless 
exceptions may be found to all the more general and dis- 
tinctive laws of nature. I think we are not likely to carry 
our disagreement further ?” 

“ It is impossible to make head against one so ready with 
his knowdedge,” returned the other, well content to exist in 
his own person a striking exception to the inferiority of his 
fellows ; “ though it appeareth to me that my brother Ring 
might be chosen, as another instance of a reasonable sta- 
ture ; a fact that thou mayst see. Doctor, by regarding him 
as he approaches through yon meadow. He hath been, 
like myself, on the scout among the mountains.” 

“ There are many instances of physical merit among thy 
connexions. Master Dudley,” returned the complaisant phy- 
sician ; “ though it would seem that thy brother hath not 
found his companion among them. He is attended by an 
ill-grown, and, it may be added, an ill-favored comrade, that 
I know not.” 

“ Ha ! It would seem that Reuben hath fallen on the 
trail of savages ! The man in company is certainly in paint 
and blanket. Ii may be well to pause at yonder opening, 
and await their coming.” 

As this proposition imposed no particular inconvenience, 
the Doctor readily assented. The two drew nigh to the 


258 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


place where the men, whom they saw crossing the fields in 
the distance, were expected to enter the highway. 

But little time was lost in attendance. Ere many minutes 
had elapsed, Reuben Ring, accoutred and armed like the 
borderer already introduced in this chapter, arrived at the 
opening, followed by the stranger whose appearance had 
caused so much surprise to those who watched their ap- 
proach. 

“ What now. Sergeant,” exclaimed Dudley, when the 
other was within ear-shot, speaking a little in the manner 
of one who had a legal right to propound his questions ; 
“ hast fallen on a trail of the savage, and made a captive ? 
or hath some owl permitted one of its brood to fall from 
the nest across thy footpath ?” 

“ I believe the creature may be accounted a man,” 
returned the successful Reuben, throwing the breech of his 
gun to the earth, and leaning on its long barrel, while he 
intently regarded the half-painted, vacant, and extremely 
equivocal countenance of his captive. “ He hath the colors 
of a Narragansett about the brow and eyes, and yet he 
faileth greatly in the form and movements.” 

“ There are anomalies in the physicals of an Indian, as in 
those of other men,” interrupted Doctor Ergot, with a 
meaning glance at Dudley. “ The conclusion of our neigh- 
bor Ring may be too hasty, since paint is the fruit of art, 
and may be applied to any of our faces, after an established 
usage. But the evidences of nature are far less to be dis- 
trusted. It hath come within the province of my studies to 
note the differences in formation, which occur in the differ- 
ent families of man ; and nothing is more readily to be 
known to an eye skilled in these abstrusities than the abori- 
ginal of the tribe Narragansett. Set the man more in a 
position of examination, neighbors, and it shall shortly be 
seen to which race he belongs. Thou wilt note in this 
little facility of investigation. Ensign, a clear evidence of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 259 


most of the matters that have this morning been agitated 
between us. Doth the patient speak English ?” 

“ Therein have I found some difficulty of inquiry,” re- 
turned Reuben, or as he should now be, and as he was 
usually called. Sergeant Ring. “ He hath been spoken to in 
the language of a Christian, no less than in that of a hea- 
then, and as yet no reply hath been made, while he obeys 
commands uttei^d in both forms of speech.” 

“ It mattercth not,” said Ergot, dismounting, and drawing 
near to his subject, with a look towards Dudley that should 
seem to court his admiration. 

“ Happily the examination before me leaneth but little on 
any subtleties of speech. Let the man be placed in an atti- 
tude of ease, one in which nature may not be fettered by 
restraint. The conformation of the whole head is remark- 
ably aboriginal, but the distinction of tribes is not to be 
sought in these general delineations. The forehead, as you 
see, neighbors, is retreating and narrow, the cheek-bones as 
usual high, and the olfactory member, as in all of the 
natives, inclining to Roman.” 

“ Now to me it would seem that the nose of the man 
hath a marked upturning at the end,” Dudley ventured to 
remark, as the other ran volubly over the general and well 
known distinctive points of physical construction in an 
Indian. 

“ As an exception ! Thou seest. Ensign, by this elevation 
of the bone, and the protuberance of the more fleshy parts, 
that the peculiarity is an exception. I should rather have 
said that the nose originally inclined to the Roman. The 
departure from regularity has been produced by some casu- 
alty of their warfare, such as a blow from a tomahawk, oi* 
the gash of a knife — aye ! here thou seest the scar left by 
the weapon ! It is concealed by the paint ; but remove 
that, and you will find that it hath all the form of a cica- 
trix of a corresponding shape. These departures from 


260 THE WEPT OF WISH -TON- WISH. 

generalities have a tendency to confound pretenders ; a 
happy circumstance in itself for the progress of knowledge 
on fixed principles. Place the subject more erect, that we 
may see the natural movement of the muscles. Here is an 
evidence of great aquatic habits in the dimensions of the 
foot, which go to confirm original conceptions. It is a 
happy proof, through which reasonable and prudent conclu- 
sions confirm the quick-sighted glances of practice. I pro- 
nounce the fellow to be a Narragansett.” 

“ Is it then a Narragansett that hath a foot to confound a 
trail ?” returned Eben Dudley, who had been studying the 
movements and attitudes of the captive with quite as much 
keenness, and with something more of understanding than 
the leech. “ Brother Ring, hast ever known an Indian 
leave such an out-turning foot-print on the leav^es ?” 

“ Ensign, I marvel that a man of thy discretion should 
dwell on a slight variety of movement, when a case exists in 
which the laws of nature may be traced to their sources. 
This training for the Indian troubles hath made thee critical 
in the position of a foot. I have said that the fellow is a 
Narragansett, and what I have uttered hath not been lightly 
ventured. Here is the peculiar formation of the foot, 
which hath been obtained in infancy, a fulness in the 
muscles of the breast and shoulders, from unusual exercise 
m an element denser than the air, and a nicer construction 
in ” 

The physician paused, for Dudley had coolly advanced to 
the captive, and raising the thin robe of deer-skin which 
was thrown over the whole of his superior members, he ex- 
posed the unequivocal skin of a white man. This would 
have proved an embarrassing refutation to one accustomed 
to the conflict of wits ; but monopoly in certain branches 
of knowledge had produced in favor of Doctor Ergot an 
acknowledged superiority, that in its effects might be lik- 
ened to the predominating influence of any other aristo- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 261 

cracy on those faculties that have been benumbed by its 
operation. His opinion changed, which is more than can 
be said of his countenance ; for with the readiness of inven- 
tion which is so often practised in the felicitous institutions 
we have named, and by which the reasoning, instead of 
regulating, is adapted to the practice, he exclaimed with up- 
lifted hands and eyes that bespoke the fulness of his admi- 
ration — 

“ Here have we another proof of the wonderful agency 
by which the changes in nature arc gradually wrought ! 
Now do we see in this Narragansett ” 

“ The man is white !” interrupted Dudley, tapping the 
naked shoulder, which he still held exposed to view. 

“ White, but not a tittle the less a Narragansett. Your 
captive, beyond a doubt, oweth his existence to Christian 
parentage, but accident hath thrown him early among the 
aboriginals, and all those parts which were liable to change, 
were fast getting to assume the peculiarities of the tribe. 
He is one of those beautiful and connecting links in the 
chain of knowledge, by which science followeth up its de- 
ductions to demonstration.” 

“ I should ill brook coming to harm for doing violence to 
a subject of the King,” said Reuben Ring, a steady, open- 
faced yeoman, who thought far less of the subtleties of his 
companion than of discharging his social duties in a manner 
fitting the character of a quiet and well conditioned citizen. 
“ We have had so much of stirring tidings latterly, concern- 
ing the. manner the savages conduct their warfare, that it 
behoveth men in places of trust to be vigilant ; for,” glanc- 
ing his eyes towards the ruin of the distant block-house, 
“ thou knowest, brother Dudley, that we have occasion 
to be watchful in a settlement as deep in the forest as this.” 

“ I will answer for the indemnity. Sergeant Ring,” said 
Dudley, with an air of dignity. “ I take upon myself the 
keeping of this stranger, and will see that he be borne, pro- 


262 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

perly and in fitting season, before the authorities. In the 
meantime, duty hath caused us to overlook matters of 
moment in thy household, which it may be seemly to com- 
municate. Abundance hath not been neglectful of thy 
interests, during the scout.” 

“ What !” demanded the husband, with rather more of 
earnestness than was generally exhibited by one of habits as 
restrained as his own ; “ hath the woman called upjon the 
neighbors during my absence ?” 

Dudley nodded an assent. 

“ And shall I find another boy beneath my roof ?” 

Doctor Ergot nodded three times, with a gravity that 
might have suited a communication even more weighty than 
the one he made. 

“ Thy woman rarely doth a good turn by halves, Reuben. 
Thou wilt find that she hath made provision for a successor 
to our good neighbor Ergot, since a seventh son is born in 
thy house.” 

Tlie broad, honest face of the father flushed with joy, and 
then a feeling less selfish came over him. He asked, with a 
slight tremor in the voice,, that was none the less touching 
for coming from the lips of one so stout of frame and firm 
of movement — 

“And the woman? — in what manner doth Abundance 
bear up under the blessing ?” 

“ Bravely,” returned the leech ; “ go to thy dwelling, 
Sergeant Ring, and praise God that there is one to look to 
its concerns in thy absence. He w'ho hath received the 
gift of seven sons in five years, need never be a poor nor a 
dependent man in a country like this. Seven farms, added 
to that pretty homestead of mountain-land which thou now 
tillest, will render thee a patriarch in thine age, and sustain 
the name of Ring, hundreds of years hence, when these 
colonies shall become peopled and powerful, and, I say it 
boldly, caring not who may call me one that vaunteth out 


THE WEPT OF AVISH-TON-WISH. 263 


of reason, equal to some of your lofty and self-extolled king- 
doms of Europe — aye, even peradventure to the mighty 
sovereignty of Portugal itself! I have enumerated thy 
fiiture farms at seven, for the allusion of the Ensign to the 
virtues of men born with natural propensities to the healing 
art, must be taken as pleasant speech, since it is a mere delu- 
sion of old wives’ fancy, and it would be particularly unneces- 
sary here, where every reasonable situation of this nature is 
already occupied. Go to thy wife. Sergeant, and bid her be 
of good cheer ; for she hath done herself, thee, and thy 
country, a service, and that without dabbling in pursuits 
foreign to her comprehension.” 

The sturdy yeoman, on whom this rich gift of Providence 
had been dispensed, raised his hat, and placing it decently 
before his face, he offered up a silent thanksgiving for the 
favor. ■ Then transferring his captive to the keeping of his 
superior and kinsman, he was soon seen striding, over the 
fields towards his upland dwelling, with a heavy foot, though 
with a light heart. 

In the meantime, Dudley and his companion bestowed a 
more particular attention on the silent and nearly motionless 
object of their curiosity. Though the captive appeared to 
be of middle age, his eye was unmeaning, his air timid and 
uncertain, and his form cringing and ungainly. In all these 
particulars, he was seen to differ from the known peculiari- 
ties of a native warrior. 

Previously to departing, Reuben Ring had explained that 
while traversing the woods, on that duty of watchfulness to 
which the state of the colony and some recent signs had given 
rise, this wandering person had been encountered and secured, 
as seemed necessary to the safety of the settlement. He had 
neither sought nor avoided his captor ; but when questioned 
concerning his tribe, his motive for traversing those hills, and 
his future intentions, no satisfactory reply could be extracted. 
He had scarcely spoken, and the little that he said was 


264 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

uttered in a jargon between the language of his interroga- 
tor and the dialect of some barbarous nation. Though 
there was much in the actual state of the colonies, and in 
the circumstances in which this wanderer had been found, 
to justify his detention, little had in truth been discovered, 
to supply a clue either to any material facts in his history, 
or to any of his views in being in the immediate vicinity of 
the valley. 

Guided only by this barren information, Dudley and his 
companion endeavored, as they moved towards the hamlet, 
to entrap their prisoner into some confession of his object, 
by putting their questions with a sagacity not unusual to 
men in remote and difficult situations, where necessity and 
danger are apt to keep alive all the native energies of the 
human mind. The answers were little connected and unin- 
telligible, sometimes seeming to exhibit the finest subtlety 
of savage cunning, and at others appearing to possess the 
mental helplessness of the most abject fatuity. 




I JI E WEPT OF W I § H - T O N - W I S II . 


265 


CHAPTER XIX. 

“ I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
Commonly are ; — 

But I have 

That honorable grief lodged here, which burns 
"Worse than tears drown.” 

"Winter’s Tale. 

Ip the pen of a compiler, like that we wield, possessed 
the mechanical power of the stage, it would be easy to 
shift the scenes of this legend as rapidly and effectively as 
is required for its right understanding, and for the proper 
maintenance of its interest. That which cannot be done 
with the magical aid of machinery, must be attempted by 
less ambitious, and we fear by far less efficacious means. 

At the same early hour of the day, and at no great dis- 
tance from the spot where Dudley announced his good 
fortune to his brother Ring, another morning meeting had 
place between persons of the same blood and connexions. 
From the instant when the pale light that precedes the day 
was first seen in the heavens, the windows and doors of the 
considerable dwelling, on the opposite side of the valley, had 
been unbarred. Ere the glow of the sun Jiad gilded the 
sky over the outline of the eastern woods, this example of 
industry and providence was followed by the inmates of 
every house in the village, or on the surrounding hills ; and 
by the time the golden globe itself was visible above the 
trees, there was not a human being in all that settlement, 
of proper age and health, who was not actively afoot. 

It is unnecessary to say that the dwelling particularly named 
was the present habitation of the household of Mark Heathcote. 

12 


266 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISil. 

Though age had sappea the foundations of his strength, and 
had nearly dried the channels of his existence, the venera- 
ble religionist still lived. While his physical perfection had 
been gradually giving way before the ordinary decay of 
nature, the moral man was but little altered. It is even 
probable that his visions of futurity were less dimmed by 
the mists of carnal interests than when last seen, and that 
the spirit had gained some portion of that energy which had 
certainly been abstracted from the more corporeal parts of 
his existence. At the hour already named, the Puritan was 
seated in the piazza, which stretched along the whole front 
of a dwelling, that, however it might be deficient in archi- 
tectural proportions, was not wanting in the more substantial 
comforts of a spacious and commodious frontier residence. 
In order to obtain a faithful portrait of a man so intimately 
connected with our tale, the reader will fancy him one who 
had numbered four-score and ten years, with a visage on 
which deep and constant mental striving had wrought many 
and menacing furrows, a form that trembled while it yet 
exhibited the ruins of powerful limb and flexible muscle, and 
a countenance on which ascetic reflections had engraved a 
severity, that was but faintly relieved by the gleamings of a 
natural kindness, which no acquired habits nor any traces 
of metaphysical thought could ever entirely erase. ’ Across 
this picture of venerable and self-mortifying age, the first 
rays of the sun were now softly cast, lighting a dimmed eye 
and furrowed face with a look of brightness and peace. 
Perhaps the blandness of the expression belonged as much 
to the season and hour, as to the habitual character of the 
man. This benignancy of feature, unusual rather in its 
strength than in its existence, might have been heightened 
by the fact that his spirit had just wrought in prayer, as was 
usual, in the circle of his children and dependants, ere they 
left those retired parts of the building where they had found 
rest and security during the night. Of the former, nono- 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 267 


known and cherished in the domestic circle had been 
absent ; and the ample provision that was making for the 
morning meal sufficiently showed that the number of the 
latter had in no degree diminished since the reader was 
familiar with the domestic economy of his household. 

Time had produced no very striking alteration in the 
appearance of Content. It is true that the brown hue of his 
features had deepened, and that his frame was beginning to 
lose some of its elastieity and ease of action in the more 
measured movements of middle age. But the governed 
temperament of the individual had always kept the animal 
in more than usual subjection. Even his earlier days had 
rather exhibited the promise than the performance of the 
ordinary youthful qualities. Mental gravity had long before 
produced a corresponding physical effect. In reference to 
his exterior, and using the language ‘of the . painter, it would 
now be said that, without having wrought any change in 
form and proportions, the colors had been mellowed by 
time. If a few hairs of grey were sprinkled here and there 
around his brow, it was as moss gathers on the stones of the 
edifice, rather furnishing evidence of its increased adhesion 
and approved stability, than denoting any symptoms of 
decay. 

Not so with his gentle and devoted partner. That soft- 
ness and sweetness of air which had first touched the heart 
of Content were still to be seen, though they existed amid the 
traces of a constant and a corroding grief. The freshness 
of youth had departed, and in its place was visible the more 
lasting, and, in her case, the more affeeting beauty of expres- 
sion. The eye of Ruth had lost none of its gentleness, and 
her smile still continued kind and attractive ; but the former 
was often painfully vacant, seeming to look inward upon 
those secret and withering sources of sorrow that were deeply 
and almost mysteriously seated in her heart ; while the latter 
resembled the cold brightness of that planet which illumines 


268 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 


objects by repelling the borrowed lustre from its own bosom. 
The matronly form, the feminine beaming of the countenance, 
and the melodious voice, yet remained; but the first had 
been shaken till it stood on the very verge of a premature 
decay ; the second had a mingling of anxious care in its most 
sympathetic movements, and the last was seldom Avithout 
that fearful thrill which so deeply affects the senses by con- 
veying to the understanding a meaning so foreign from the 
words. And yet an uninterested and ordinary observer 
might not have seen, in the faded comeliness and blighted 
maturity of the matron, more than the every-day signs that 
betray the turn in the tide of human existence. As befitted 
such a subject, the coloring of sorrow had been traced by a 
hand too delicate to leave the lines visible to every vulgar 
eye. Like the master-touches of art, her grief, as it was 
beyond the sympathies, so it lay beyond the ken of those 
whom excellence may fail to excite, or in whom absence can 
deaden affections. Still her feelings were true to all who 
had any claims on her love. The predominance of wasting 
grief over the more genial springs of her enjoyments, only 
Avent to prove how much greater is the influence of the 
generous than the selfish qualities of our nature in a heart 
that is truly endowed with tenderness. It is scarce necessary 
to say that this gentle and constant Avoman sorrowed for her 
child. 

Had Ruth Heathcote known that the girl ceased to live, 
it would not have been difficult for one of her faith to have 
deposited her regrets by the side of hopes that were so 
justifiable in the grave of the innocent. But the living 
death to which her offspring might be condemned, Avas rarely 
absent from her thoughts. She listened to the maxims of 
designation, AA^hich Avere heard floAving from lips she loved, 
with the fondness of a woman and thd meekness of a 
Christian ; and then, even Avhile the holy lessons were still 
sounding ia her attentive organs, the Avorkings of an uncon- ^ 




THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 269 


querable nature led her insidiously hack to the sorrow of a 
mother. 

The imagination of this devoted and feminine being had 
never possessed an undue control over her reason. Her 
visions of happiness with the man whom her judgment not 
less than her inclination approved, had been such as experi- 
ence and religion might justify. But she was now fated to 
learn there is a fearful poetry in sorrow, which can sketch 
with a grace and an imaginative power that no feebler efforts 
of a heated fancy may ever equal. She heard the sweet 
breathing of her slumbering infant in the whispering of the 
summer airs ; its plaints came to her ears amid the bowlings 
of the gale ; while the eager question and fond reply were 
mixed up with the most ordinary intercourse of her own 
household. To her the laugh of childish happiness that 
often came on the still air of evening from the hamlet, 
sounded like the voice of mourning ; and scarce an infantile 
sport met her eye that did not bring with it a pang of 
anguish. Twice since the events of the inroad had she 
been a mother ; and, as if an eternal blight were doomed to 
destroy her hopes, the little creatures to whom she had 
given birth, slept side by side near the base of the ruined 
block. Thither she often went, but it was rather to be the 
victim of those cruel images of her fancy, than as a mourner. 
Her visions of the dead were calm and even consolatory, but 
if ever her thoughts mounted to the abodes of eternal peace, 
and her feeble fancy essayed to embody the forms of the 
blessed, her mental eye sought her who was not, rather than 
those who were believed to be secure in their felicity. 
Wasting and delusory as were these glimpses of the mind, 
there were others far more harrowing, because they presented 
themselves with more of the coarse and certain features of 
the world. It was the common, and perhaps it was the 
better, opinion of the inhabitants of the valley, that death 
had early sealed the fate of those who had fallen into the 


270 THE WEPT OF W.ISH-TON-WISH. 

hands of the savages on the occasion of the inroad. Such a 
result was in conformity with the known practices and ruth- 
less passions of the conquerors, who seldom spared life unless 
to render revenge more cruelly refined, or to bring consola- 
tion to some bereaved mother of the tribe by offering a 
substitute for the dead in the person of a captive. There 
was relief to picture the face of the laughing cherub in the 
clouds, or to listen to its light footstep in the empty halls of 
the dwelling ; for in these illusive images of the brain, suf- 
fering was confined to her own bosom. But when stern 
reality usurped the place of fancy, and she saw her living 
daughter shivering in the wintry blasts or sinking beneath 
the fierce heats of the climate, cheerless in the desolation 
of female servitude, and suffering meekly the lot of phy- 
sical weakness beneath a savage master, she endured that 
anguish which was gradually exhausting the springs of 
life. 

Though the father was not altogether exempt from simi- 
lar sorrow, it beset him less ceaselessly. He knew how to 
struggle with the workings of his mind as best became a 
man. Though strongly impressed with the belief that the 
captives had early been put beyond the reach of suffering, 
he had neglected no duty which tenderness to his sorrowing 
partner, parental love, or Christian duty, could require at his 
hands. 

The Indians had retired on the crust of the snow, and 
with the thaw every foot-print, or sign by which such wary 
foes might be traced, had vanished. It remained matter of 
doubt to what tribe or even to what nation the marauders 
belonged. The peace of the colony had not yet been openly 
broken, and the inroad had been rather a violent and 
fierce symptom of the evils that were contemplated, than the 
actual commencement of the ruthless hostilities which had 
since ravaged the frontier. But while policy had kept the 
colonists quiet, private affection omitted no rational means 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 27l 

of effecting the restoration of the sufferers, in the event of 
their having been spared. 

Scouts had passed among the conspiring and but half- 
peaceable tribes nearest to the settlement, and rewards and 
menaces had both been liberally used, in order to ascertain 
the character of the savages who had laid waste the valley, 
as well as the more interesting fortunes of their hapless vic- 
tims. Every expedient to detect the truth had failed. The 
Narragansetts affirmed that their constant enemies, the Mohi- 
cans, acting with their customary treachery, had plundered 
their English friends, while the Mohicans vehemently threw 
back the imputation on the Narragansetts. At other times, 
some Indians affected to make dark allusions to the hostile 
feelings of fierce warriors, who, under the name of the Five 
Nations, were known to reside within the limits of the 
Dutch colony of New-Netherlands, and to dwell upon the 
jealousy of the Pale-faces who spoke a language different 
from that of the Yengeese. In short, inquiry had produced 
no result, and Content, when he did permit his fancy to 
represent his daughter as still living, was forced to admit to 
himself the probability that she might be buried far in the 
ocean of wilderness which then covered most of the surface 
of this continent. 

Once, indeed, a rumor of an exciting nature had reached 
the family. An itinerant trader bound from the wilds of 
the interior to a mart on the sea-shore, had entered the 
valley. He brought with him a report that a child answer- 
ing in some respects to the appearance which might now be 
supposed to belong to her who was lost, was living among 
the savages, on the banks of the smaller lakes of the adjoin- 
ing colony. The distance to this spot was great ; the path 
led through a thousand dangers, and the result was far from 
certain. Yet it quickened hopes which had long been dor- 
mant. Ruth never urged any request that might involve 
serious hazard to her husband, and for many months the 


272 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

latter had even ceased to speak on the subject. Still, nature 
was working powerfully within him. His eyes, at all times 
reflecting and calm, grew more thoughtful; deeper lines 
of care gathered about his brow, and at length melancholy 
took possession of a countenance which was usually so 
placid. 

It was at this precise period, that Eben Dudley chose to 
urge the suit he had always pressed after his own-desultory 
fashion, on the decision of Faith. One of those well ordered 
accidents, which, from time to time, had brought the girl 
and the young borderer in private conversation, enabled him 
to effect his desjgn with suflicient clearness. Faith heard 
him without betraying any of her ordinary waywardness, 
and answered with as little prevarication as the subject 
seemed to demand. 

“ This is well, Eben Dudley,” she said, “ and it is no more 
than an honest girl hath a right to hear from one who hath 
taken as many means as thou to get into her favor. But he 
who would have his life tormented by me, hath a solemn 
duty to do, ere I listen to his wishes.” 

“ I have been in the lower towns and studied their man- 
ner of life, and I have been upon the scouts of the colony, 
to keep the Indians in their wigwams,” returned her suitor, 
endeavoring to recount the feats of manliness that might 
reasonably be expected of one inclined to venture on so 
hazardous an experiment as matrimony. “ The bargain 
with the young Captain for the hill-lot, and for a village 
homestead, is drawing near a close, and as the neighbors 
will not be backward at the stonebee, or the raising, I see 
nothing to ” 

“Thou deceivest thyself, observant Dudley,” interrupted 
the girl, “ if thou believest eye of thine can see that which 
is to be sought, ere one and the same fortune shall be the 
property of thee and me. Hast noted, Eben, the manner in 
which the cheek of the Madam hath paled, and how her eye 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 2Y3 

is getting sunken, since the time when tke far trader tarried 
with us, the week of the storm?” 

“ I cannot say that there is much change in the wearing 
of the Madam within the bearing of my memory,” answered 
Dudley, who was never remarkable for minute observations 
of this nature, however keen he might prove in subjects 
more intimately connected with his daily pursuits. “ She is 
not young and blooming as thou. Faith ; nor is it often that 
we see ” 

“ I tell thee, man, that sorrow preyeth upon her form, and 
that she liveth but in the memory of the lost infant !” 

“ This is carrying mourning beyond the bounds of reason. 
The child is at peace, as is thy brother Whittal, beyond all 
manner of question. That we have not discovered their 
bones, is owing to the fire, which left but little to tell of 


“ Thy head is a charnel-house, dull Dudley ; but this pic- 
ture of its furniture shall not suffice for me. The man who 
is to be my husband, must have a feeling for a mother’s 
sorrows !” 

“ What is now getting uppermost in thy mind. Faith ? Is 
it for me to bring back the dead to life, or to place a child 
that hath been lost so many years, once more in the arms 
of its parents ?” 

“ It is. — Nay, open not thine eyes, as if light were first 
breaking into the darkness of a clouded brain ! I repeat, 
it is !” 

“ I am glad thal we have got to these open declarations ; 
for too much of my life hath been already wasted in unsettled 
gallanting, when sound wisdom and the example of all 
around me, have shown that in order to become the father 
of a family, and to be esteemed for a substantial settler, I 
should have both cleared and wived some years ago. I wish 
to deal justly by all, and having given thee reason to think 
that the day might come when we should live together, as 
12 '^ 


274 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

is fitting to people of our condition, I felt it a duty to ask 
thee to share my chances; but now that thou dealest in 
impossibilities, it is needful to seek elsewhere.” 

“ This hath ever been thy way when a good understanding 
hath been established between us. Thy mind is ever getting 
into some discontent, and then blame is heaped on one who 
rarely doth anything that should in reason offend thee. 
What madness maketh thee dream that I ask impossibilities? 
Surely, Dudley^ thou canst not have noticed the manner in 
which the nature of the Madam is giving way before the 
consuming heat of her grief ; thou canst not look into the 
sorrow of woman, or thou wouldst have listened with more 
kindness to a plan of travelling the woods for a short season, 
in order that it might be known whether she of whom the 
trader spoke is the lost one of our family, or the child of 
some stranger ! ” 

Though Faith spoke with vexation, she also spoke with 
feeling. Her dark eye swam in tears, and the color of 
her brown cheek deepened, until her companion saw new 
reasons to forget his discontent in sympathies, which, how- 
ever obtuse they might be, were never entirely dormant. 

“ If a journey of* a few hundred miles be all thou askest, 
girl, why speak in parables ? ” he good-naturedly replied. 
“ The kind word was not wanting to put me on such a trial. 
We will be married on the Sabbath, and, please Heaven, the 
Wednesday or the Saturday at most, shall see me on the 
path of the western trader.” 

“ No delay. Thou must depart with the sun. The more 
active thou pro vest on the journey, the sooner wilt thou 
have the power to make me repent a foolish deed.” 

But Faith had been persuaded to relax a little from this 
severity. They were married on the Sabbath, and the 
following day Content and Dudley left the valley in quest 
of the distant tribe on which the scion of anotfier stock 
was said to have been so violently engrafted. 


THE WE?T OP WISH-TON-WISH. 275 

It is needless to dwell on the dangers and privations of 
such an expedition. The Hudson, the Delaware, and the 
Susquehannah, rivers that were then better known in talcs 
than to the inhabitants of New England, were all crossed ; and 
after a painful and hazardous journey, the adventurers 
reached the first of that collection of small interior lakes 
whose banks are now so beautifully decorated with villages 
and farms. Here, in the bosom of savage tribes, and 
exposed to every danger of field and flood, supported only 
by his hopes, and by the presence of a stout companion 
that hardships or danger could not easily subdue, the father 
diligently sought his child. 

At length a people was found who held a captive that 
answered the description of the trader. We shall not dwell 
on the feelings with which Content approached the village 
that contained this little descendant of a white race. He 
had not concealed his errand ; and the sacred character in 
which he came, found pity and respect even among those 
barbarous tenants of the wilderness. A deputation of the 
chiefs received him in the skirts of their clearing. He was 
conducted to a wigwam where a council-fire was lighted, 
and an interpreter opened the subject by placing the amount 
of the ransom offered, and the professions of peace with 
which the strangers came, in the fairest light before his 
auditors. It is not usual for the American savage to loosen 
his hold easily on one naturalized in his tribe. But the meek 
air and noble confidence of Content touched the latent 
qualities of those generous, though fierce children of the 
woods. The girl was sent for, that she might stand in the 
presence of the elders of the nation. 

No language can paint the sensation with which Content 
first looked upon this adopted daughter of the savages. 
The years and sex were in accordance with his wishes ; but 
in place of the golden hair and azure eyes of the cherub he 
had lost, there appeared a girl in whose jet-black tresses and 


276 THE WEPT OF WISH -TON-WISH. 

equally dark organs of sight, he might better trace a de- 
scendant of the French of the Canadas, than one sprung 
from his own Saxon lineage. The father was not quick of 
mind in the ordinary occupations of life, hut nature was 
now big within him. There needed no second glance to 
say how cruelly his hopes had been deceived. A smothered 
groan struggled from his chest, and then his self-command 
returned with the imposing grandeur of Christian resigna- 
tion. He arose, and thanking the chiefs for their indulgence, 
he made no secret of the mistake by which he had been led 
so far on a fruitless errand. While speaking, the signs and 
gestures of Dudley gave him reason to believe that his com- 
panion had something of importance to communicate. In 
a private interview, the latter suggested the expediency of 
concealing the truth, and of rescuing the child they had in 
fact discovered from the hands of her barbarous masters. 
It was now too late to practise a deception that might have 
availed for this object, had the stern principles of Content 
permitted the artifice. But transferring some portion of the 
interest which he felt for the fortunes of his own offspring to 
that of the unknown parent, who like himself most pro- 
bably mourned the uncertain fate of the girl before him, 
he tendered the ransom intended for Ruth in behalf of the 
captive. It was rejected. Disappointed in both their 
objects, the adventurers were obliged to quit the village 
with weary feet and still heavier hearts. 

If any who read these pages have ever felt the agony of 
suspense in a matter involving the best of human affections, 
they will know how to appreciate the sufferings of the 
mother during the month that her husband was absent on 
this holy errand. At times hope brightened around her 
heart, until the glow of pleasure was again mantling on her 
eheek and playing in her eye. The first week of the 
adventure was one almost of happiness. The hazards of the 
journey were nearly forgotten in its anticipated results, and 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 277 

though occasional apprehensions quickened the pulses of 
one whose system answered so fearfully to the movements 
of the spirit, there was a predominance of hope in all her 
anticipations. She again passed among her maidens with a 
mien in which joy was struggling with the meekness of 
subdued habits, and her smiles once more began to beam 
with renovated happiness. To his dying day old Mark 
Heathcote never forgot the sudden sensation that was 
created by the soft laugh that on some unexpected occasion 
came to his ear from the lips of his son’s wife. Though 
years had elapsed between the moment when that unwonted 
sound was heard, and the time at which the action of the 
tale now stands, he never heard it repeated. To heighten 
the feelings which were now uppermost in the mind of 
Kuth, when within a day’s march of the village to which 
he was going. Content had found the means to send the 
tidings of his prospects of success. It was over all these 
renewed wishes that disappointment was to throw its chill, 
and it was affections thus riveted that were to be again 
blighted by the cruellest of all withering influences, — that 
of hope defeated. 

It was near the hour of the setting of the sun when Content 
and Dudley reached the deserted clearing on their return to 
the valley. Their path led through this opening on the 
mountain side, and there was one point among the bushes 
from which the buildings that had already arisen from the 
ashes of the burning might be distinctly seen. Until now, 
the husband and father had believed himself equal to any 
effort that duty might require in the progress of this mourn- 
ftil service. But here he paused, and communicated a wish 
to his companion that he would go ahead and break the 
nature of the deception that led them so far on a fruitless 
mission. Perhaps Content was himself ignorant of all he 
wished, or to what unskilful hands he had confided a com- 
mission of more than ordinary delicacy. He merely felt 


278 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

his own inability, and with a weakness that may find some 
apology in his feelings, he saw his companion depart with- 
out instructions or indeed without any other guide than 
Nature. 

Though Faith had betrayed no marked uneasiness during 
the absence of the travellers, her quick eye was the first to 
discover the form of her husband, as he came with a tired 
step across the fields, in the direction of the dwellings. 
Long ere Dudley reached the house, every one of its in- 
mates had assembled in the piazza. This was no meeting 
of turbulent delight or of clamorous greetings. The adven- 
turer drew near amid a silence so oppressive, that it utterly 
disconcerted a studied project, by which he had hoped to 
announce his tidings in a manner suited to the occasion. 
His hand was on the gate of the little court, and still none 
spoke ; his foot was on the low step, and yet no voice bade 
him welcome. The looks of the little group were rather 
fixed on the features of Ruth than on the person of him 
who approached. Her face was pallid as death, her eye 
contracted, but filled with the mental effort that sustained 
her, and her lip scarce trembled, as in obedience to a feeling 
still stronger than the one which had so long oppressed her, 
she exclaimed — 

“ Eben Dudley, where hast thou left my husband ?” 

“ The young Captain was foot-weary, and he tarried in 
the second growth of the hill ; but so brave a walker can- 
not be far behind. We shall see him soon,'' at the opening 
by the dead beech ; and it is there that I recommend the 
Madam 

“ It was thoughtful in Heathcote, and like his usual kind- 
ness, to devise this well meant caution,” said Ruth, across 
whose countenance a smile so radiant passed, that it im- 
parted the expression which is believed to characterize the 
peculiar benignancy of angels. “ Still it was unnecessary ; 
for he should haf e known that we place our strength on 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 279 

tlie Rock of Ages. Tell me, in what manner hath my 
precious one borne the exceeding weariness of thy tangled 
route ?” 

The wandering glance of the messenger had gone from 
face to face, until it became fastened on the countenance of 
his own wife, in a settled, unmeaning gaze. 

“ Nay, Faith hath demeaned well, both as my assistant 
and as thy partner, and thou mayest see that her comeliness 
is in no degree changed. And did the babe falter in this 
weary passage, or did she retard thy movements by her 
fretfulness ? But I know thy nature, man ; she hath been 
borne over many long miles of mountain-side and treache- 
rous swamp in thine own vigorous arms. Thou answerest 
not, Dudley !” exclaimed Rutli, taking the alarm, and laying 
a hand firmly on the shoulder of him she questioned ; as 
forcing his half-averted face to meet her eye, she seemed to 
read his soul. 

The muscles of the sun-burnt and strong features of tbe 
borderer worked involuntarily, his broad chest swelled to its 
utmost expansion, big burning drops rolled out upon his 
brown cheeks, and then taking the arm of Ruth in one of 
his own powerful hands, he compelled her to release her 
hold, with a firm but respectful exercise of his strength ; 
and thrusting the form of his own wife without ceremony 
aside, he passed through the circle, and entered the dwell- 
ing with the tread of a giant. 

The head of Ruth dropped upon her bosom, the paleness 
again came over her cheeks, and it was then that the inward 
look of the eye might first be seen, which afterwards became 
so constant and so painful an expression in her countenance. 
From that hour to the time in which the family of the 
Wish-Ton-Wish is again brought immediately before the 
reader, no further rumors were ever heard, to lessen or in- 
crease the wasting regrets of her bosom. 


280 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER XX. 


“ Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not 
eaten paper, as it were ; he hath not drunk ink ; his intellect is not replenished ; 
be is only an animal — only sensible in the duller parts.” 

Love’s Laboe Lost. 


“ Here cometli Faith, to bring us tidings of the hamlet,” 
said the husband of the woman whose character we have 
so feebly sketched, as he took his seat in the piazza, at the 
early hour and in the group already mentioned. “ The 
Ensign hath been abroad on the hills throughout the night, 
with a chosen party of our people ; and perchance she hath 
been sent with the substance that they have gathered, con- 
cerning the unknown trail.” 

“ The heavy-footed Dudley hath scarce mounted to the 
dividing ridge, where report goeth the prints of moccasins 
were seen,” observed a young man, who in his person bore 
all the evidences of An active and healthful manhood. “ Of 
what service is the scouting that faileth of the necessary 
distance, by the weariness of its- leader ?” 

“ If thou believest, boy, that thy young foot is equal to 
contend with the sinews of Eben Dudley, there may be 
occasion to show the magnitude of thy error, ere the dan- 
ger of this Indian out-breaking shall pass away. Thou art 
too stubborn of will, Mark, to be yet trusted with the lead- 
ing of parties that may hold the safety of all who dwell in 
the Wish-Ton-Wish within their keeping.” 

The young man looked displeased ; but, fearful that his 
father might observe and misinterpret his humor into a per- 
sonal disrespect, he turned away, permitting his frowning 


THE WEPT OF W I S II - T O N - W I S H . 281 


eye to rest for an instant on the timid and stolen glance of 
a maiden, whose cheek was glowing like the eastern sky, as 
she busied herself with the preparations of the table. 

“ What welcome news dost bring from the sign of the 
Whip-poor-Will ?” Content asked of the woman who had 
now come within the little gate of his court. “ Hast seen 
the Ensign since the party took the hill-paths ; or is it 
some traveller who hath charged thee with matter for our 
ears ?” 

“ Eye of man hath not seen the man since he girded 
himself with the sword of office,” returned Faith, entering 
the piazza and nodding salutation to those around her ; 
“ and as for strangers, when the clock shall strike noon, it 
will be one month to the day that the last of them was 
housed within my doors. But I complain not of the want 
t)f custom, as the Ensign would never quit the bar and his 
gossip to go into the mountain-lots, so long as there was one 
to fill his ears with the marvels of the old countries, or 
even to discourse of the home-stirrings of the colonies them- 
selves.” 

“ Thou speakest lightly. Faith, of one who merits thy 
respect and thy duty.” 

The eye of the former studied the meek countenance of 
her from whom this reproof came, with an intenseness and 
a melancholy that showed her thoughts werCj^on other mat- 
ters, and then, as if suddenly recalled to what had passed, 
she resumed — 

“ Truly, what with duty to the man as a husband, and 
respect to him as an officer of the colony. Madam Heath- 
cote, the task is not one of easy bearing. If the King’s repre- 
sentative had given the colors to my brother Reuben, and 
left the Dudley with the halberd in his hand, the preferment 
would have been ample for one of his qualities, and all the 
better for the credit of the settlement.” 

“The Governor distributed his favor according to the 


282 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

advice of men competent to distinguish merit,” said Con- 
tent. “ Eben was foremost in the bloody affair among the 
people of the Plantations, where his manhood was of good 
example to all in company. Should he continue as faithful 
and as valiant, thou mayest yet live to see thyself the con- 
sort of a Captain !” 

“ Not for glory gained in this night’s marching ; for yon- 
der cometh the man with a sound body, and seemingly with 
the stomach of a Cfcsar — aye, and I’ll answer for it, of a regi- 
ment too ! It is no trifle that will satisfy his appetite, after 
one of these — ha ! Pray Heaven the fellow be not harmed. 
Truly, he hath our neighbor Ergot in attendance.” 

“ There is other than he too ; for one cometh in the rear 
whose gait and air are unknown to me. The trail hath 
been struck, and Dudley leadeth a captive ! A savage in 
his paint and cloak of skin is taken.” 

This assertion caused all to rise — for the excitement of an 
apprehended inroad was still strong in the minds of those 
secluded people. Not a syllable more was uttered until the 
scout and his companion were before them. 

The quick glance of Faith had scanned the person of her 
husband, and, resuming her spirits with the certainty that 
he was unharmed, she was the first to greet him with 
words : 

“ How now. Ensign Dudley,” said the woman, quite possi- 
bly vexed that she had unguardedly betrayed a greater inter- 
est in his welfare than she might always deem prudent. 
“How now. Ensign — bath the campaign ended with no 
better trophy than this ?” 

“ The fellow is not a chiet^ nor, by his step and dull look, 
even a warrior ; but he was, nevertheless, a lurker nigh the 
settlements, and it was thought prudent to bring him in,” 
returned the husband, addressing himself to Content, while 
he answered the salutation of his wife with a suflSciently 
brief nod. “ My own scouting hath brought nothing to 


THE WEPT OF WISH -TON- WISH. 283 

light ; but my brother Ring hath fallen on the trail of him 
that is here present, and it is not a little that we are puzzled 
in probing, as the good Doctor Ergot calleth it, into the 
meaning of his errand.” 

“ Of what tribe may the savage be ?” 

“ There hath been discussion among us on that matter,” 
returned Dudley, with an oblique glance of the eye towards 
the physician. “ Some have said he is a Narragansett, while 
others think he cometh of a stock still further east.” 

“ In giving that opinion, I spoke merely of his secondary 
or acquired habits,” interrupted Ergot ; “ for, having refer- 
ence to his original, the man is assuredly a White.” 

“ A White !” repeated all around him. 

“ Beyond a cavil, as may be seen by divers particulars in 
his outward conformation, viz. in the shape of the head, 
the muscles of the arms and of the legs, the air and gait, 
besides sundry other signs, that are familiar to men who 
have made the physical peculiarities of the two races their 
study.” 

“ One of which is this !” continued Dudley, throwing up 
the robe of the captive, and giving his companions the ocu- 
lar evidence which had so satisfactorily removed all his own 
doubts. “ Though the color of the skin may not be proof 
positive^ like that named by our neighbor Ergot, it is still 
something, in helping a man of little learning to make up 
an opinion in such a matter.” 

“ Madam !” exclaimed Faith so suddenly as to cause her 
she addressed to start, “ for the sake of Heaven’s mercy ! 
let thy maidens bring soap and water, that the face of this 
man may be cleansed of its paint.” 

“ What foolishness is thy brain set upon ?” rejoined the 
Ensign, who had latterly affected some of that superior 
gravity which might be supposed to belong to his official 
station. “We are not now under the roof of the Whip- 
Poor-Will, wife of mine, but in the presence of those who 


284 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 

need none of tliy suggestions to give proper forms to an 
examination of office.” 

Faith heeded no reproof. Instead of waiting for others to 
perform that which she had desired, she applied herself to 
the task, with a dexterity that had been acquired by long 
practice, and a zeal that seemed awakened by some extraor- 
dinary emotion. In a minute the colors had disappeared 
fi’om the features of the captive, and, though deeply tanned 
by exposure to an American sun and to sultiy winds, his 
face was unequivocally that of one who owed his origin to 
an European ancestry. The movements of the eager woman 
were watched with curious interest by all present, and when 
the short task was ended, a murmur of surprise broke simul- 
taneously from every lip. 

“ There is meaning in this masquerade,” observed Con- 
tent, who had long and intently studied the dull and 
ungainly countenance that was exposed to his scrutiny by 
the operation. “I have heard of Christian men wdio have 
sold themselves to gain, and who, forgetting religion and 
the love of their race, have been known to league with the 
savage in order to pursue rapine in the settlements. This 
wretch hath the subtlety of one of the French of the Cana- 
das in his eye.” 

“ Away ! away !” cried Faith, forcing herself in front of 
the speaker, and, by placing her tw^o hands on the shaven 
crown of the prisoner, forming a sort of sh^ide to his fea- 
tures. “ Away with all folly about the Frenchers and wicked 
leagues ! This is no plotting miscreant, but a stricken 
innocent ! Whittal — my brother Whittal, dost know me ?” 

The tears rolled down the cheeks of the wayward woman 
as she gazed into the face of her witless relative, whose eye 
lighted with one of its occasional gloamings of intelligence, 
and who indulged in a low, vacant laugh, ere he answered 
her earnest interrogatory. 

“ Some speak like men from over sea,” he said, “ and 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 285 


some speak like men of the woods. Is there such a thing 
as bear’s meat or a mouthful of hommony in the wig- 
wam ?” 

Had the voice of one long known to be in the grave, 
broken on the ears of the family, it would scarcely have 
produced a deeper sensation, or have quickened the blood 
more violently about their hearts, than this sudden and 
utterly unexpected discovery of the character of their cap- 
tive. Wonder- and awe held them mute for a time, and 
then Ruth was seen standing before the restored wanderer, 
her hands clasped in the attitude of petition, her eye con- 
tracted and imploring, and her whole person expressive of 
the suspense and excitement which had roused her long 
latent emotions to agony. 

“ Tell me,” said a thrilling voice that might have quick- 
ened the intellect of one even duller than the man addressed, 
“ as thou hast pity in thy heart, tell me if my babe yet 
live ?” 

“ ’Tis a good babe,” returned the other, and then laughing 
again in his own vacant and unmeaning manner, he bent his 
eyes w'ith a species of stupid wonder on Faith, in whose 
appearance there was far less change than in the speaking 
but wasted countenance of her who stood immediately before 
him. 

“ Give leave, dearest madam,” interposed the sister : “ I 
know the nature of the boy, and could ever do more wdth 
him than any other.” 

But this request was useless. The system of the mother, 
in its present state of excitement, was unequal to further 
effort. Sinking into the watchful arms of Content, she was 
borne away, and, for a minute, the anxious interest of the 
handmaidens left none but the men on the piazza. 

“Whittal — my old playfellow, Whittal Ring,” said the 
son of Content, advancing with a humid eye to take the 
hand of the prisoner. “ Hast forgotten, man, the compa- 


286 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

nion of thj early days ? It is young Mark Heathcote that 
speaks.” 

The other looked up into his countenance, for a moment, 
with a reviving recollection ; hut shaking his head, he drew 
back in marked displeasure, muttering loud enough to be 
heard — 

“ What a false liar is a Pale-face ! Here is one of the 
tall rogues wishing to pass for a loping boy !” 

What more he uttered his auditors never knew, for he 
instantly changed his language to some dialect of an Indian 
tribe. 

“ The mind of the unhappy youth hath even been 
more blunted, by exposure and the usages of a savage life, 
than by Nature,” said Content, who with most of the others 
had been recalled, by his interest in the examination, to the 
scene they had momentarily quitted. “ Let the sister deal 
tenderly with the lad, and, in Heaven’s time, shall we learn 
the truth.” 

The deep feeling of the father clothed his words with 
authority. The eager group gave place, and something like 
the solemnity of an official examination succeeded to the 
irregular and hurried interrogatories which had first broken 
on the dull intellect of the recovered wanderer. 

The dependants took their stations in a circle around the 
chair of the Puritan, by whose side was placed Content, 
while Faith induced her brother to be seated on the step .of 
the piazza, in a manner that all might hear. The attention 
of the brother himself was drawn from the formality of the 
arrangement, by placing food in his hands. 

“And now, Whittal, I would know,” commenced the 
ready woman, when a deep silence denoted the attention of 
the auditors, “ I would know, if thou rememberest the day 
I clad thee in garments of boughten cloth, from over sea; 
and how fond thou wast of being seen among the kine in 
colors so gay ?” 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 287 

The young man looked up in her face as if the tones of 
her voice gave him pleasure ; but, instead of making any 
reply, he preferred to munch the bread with which she had 
endeavored to lure him back to their ancient confidence. 

“ Surely, boy, thou canst not so soon have forgotten the 
gift I bought, with the hard earnings of a wheel that turned 
at night. The tail of yon peacock is not finer than thou 
then wast — but I will make thee such another garment, that 
thou mayest go with the trainers to their weekly muster.” 

The youth dropped the robe of skin that covered the 
upper part of his body, and making a forward gesture, with 
the gravity of an Indian, he answered — 

“ Whittal is a warrior on his path ; he has no time for 
the talk of the women !” 

“ Now, brother, thou forgettest the manner in which I 
was w'ont to feed thy hunger, as the frost pinched thee, in 
the cold mornings, and at the hour when the kine needed 
thy care ; else thou would’st not call me woman.” 

“ Hast ever been on the trail of a Pequot ? Know’st how 
to whoop among the men ?” 

“ What is an Indian whoop to the bleating of the flocks, 
or the bellowing of cattle in the bushes ! Thou rememberest 
the sound of the bells, as they tinkled ♦among the second 
growth of an evening?” 

The former herdsman turned his head, and seemed to 
lend his attention, as a dog listens to an approaching foot- 
step. But the gleam of recollection was quickly lost. In 
the next moment, he yielded to the more positive, and pos- 
sibly more urgent, demands of his appetite. 

“ Then hast thou lost the use of ears ; else thou w'ould’st 
not say that thou forgettest the sound of the bells.” 

“ Didst ever hear a wolf howl ?” exclaimed the other. 
“ That’s a sound for a hunter ! I saw the Great Chief strike 
the striped panther, when the boldest warrior of the tribe 
grew white as a craven Pale-face at his leaps !” 


288 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“Talk not to me of your ravenous beasts and Great 
Chiefs, but rather let us think of the days when we were 
young, and when thou had’st delight in the sports of a 
Christian childhood. Hast forgotten, Whittal, how our 
mother used to give us leave to pass the idle time in games 
among the snow ?” 

. “ Nipset hath a motlier in her wigwam, but he asketh no 
leave to go on the hunt. He is a man ; the next snow, he 
will be a warrior.” 

“ Silly boy ! This is some treachery of the savage, by 
which he has bound thy weakness with the fetters of his 
craftiness. Thy mother, Whittal, was a woman of Christian 
belief, and one of a white race ; and a kind and mourning 
mother was she over thy feeble-mindedness! Dost not 
remember, unthankful of heart 1 how she nursed thy sickly 
hours in boyhood, and how she administered to all thy 
bodily wants ? Who was it that fed thee when a-hungered, 
or who had compassion on thy waywardness, when others 
tired of thy idle deeds, or grew impatient at thy weak^ 
ness ?” 

The brother looked, for an instant, at the flushed features 
of the speaker, as if glimmerings of some faintly distin- 
guished scenes crossed the visions of his mind; but the 
animal still predominated, and he continued to feed his 
hunger. 

“This exceedeth human endurance!” exclaimed the 
excited Faith, “ Look into this eye, weak one, and say if 
thou knowest her who supplied the place of that mother 
whom thou refuseth to remember — she who hath toiled for 
thy comfort, and who hath never refused to listen to all thy 
plaints, and to soften all thy sufferings. Look at this eye, 
and speak — dost know me ?” 

“ Certain !” returned the other, laughing with a half intel- 
ligent expression of recognition ; “ ’tis a woman of the Pale- 
faces, and I warrant me, one that will never be satisfied till 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 289 


she hath all the furs of the Americas on her hack, and all 
the venison of the woods in her kitchen. Didst ever hear 
the tradition, how that wicked race got into the hunting-, 
grounds, and robbed the warriors of the country ?” 

The disappointment of Faith had made her too impatient 
to lend a pleased attention to this tale; but, at that 
moment, a form appeared at her side, and by a quiet and 
commanding gesture directed her to humor the temper of 
the wanderer. 

It was Ruth, in whose pale cheek and anxious eye, all the 
intenseness of a mother’s longings might be traced, in its 
most touching aspect. Though so lately helpless and 
sinking beneath her emotions, the sacred feelings which now 
sustainad her seemed to supply the place of all other aid; 
and as she glided past the listening circle, even Content 
himself had not believed it necessary to offer succor, or to 
interpose with remonstrance. Her quiet, meaning gesture 
seemed to say, ‘ proceed, and show all the indulgence to the 
weakness of the young man.’ The rising discontent of 
Faith was checked by habitual reverence, and she prepared 
to obey. 

“ And what say the silly traditions of which you speak ?” 
she added, ere the current* of his dull ideas had time to 
change its direction. 

“ ’Tis spoken by the old men in the villages, and what is 
there said is gospel-true. You see all around you land that 
is covered with hill and valley, and which once bore wood, 
without the fear of the axe, and over which game was 
spread with a bountiful hand. There are runnirs and hunt- 
ers in our tribe, who have been on a straight path towards 
tlie setting sun, until their legs were weary and their eyes 
could not see the clouds that hang over the salt lake, and 
yet they say, ’tis everywhere beautiful as yonder green 
mountain. Tall trees and shady woods, rivers and lakes 
filled with fish, and deer and beaver plentiful as the sands 

13 


290 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH.' 

on tlie sea-shore. All this land and water the Great Spirit 
gave to men of red skins; for them he loved, since they 
spoke truth in their tribes, were true to their friends, hated 
their enemies, and knew how to take scalps. Now, a thou- 
sand snows had come and melted, since this gift was made,” 
continued Whiftal, who spoke with the air of one charged 
with the narration of a grave tradition, though he probably 
did no more than relate what many repetitions had ren- 
dered familiar to his inactive mind, “ and yet none but red- 
skins were seen to hunt the moose, or to go on the war- 
path. Then the Great Spirit grew angry ; he hid his face 
from his children, because they quarrelled among them- 
selves. Big canoes came out of the rising sun, and brought 
a hungry and wicked people into the land. At first, the 
strangers spoke soft and complaining like women. They 
begged room for a few wigwams, and said if the warriors 
would give them ground to plant they would ask their God 
to look upon the red-men. But when they grew strong 
they forgot their words and made liars of themselves. Oh, 
they are wicked knaves ! A Pale-face is a panther. When 
a-hungered, you can hear him whining in the bushes like a 
strayed infant ; but when you come wdthin his leap beware 
of tooth and claw !” 

“ This evil-minded race, then, robbed the red warriors of 
their land ?” 

“ Certain ! They spoke like sick women till they grew 
strong, and then they out-devilled the Pequots themselves 
in wickedness; feeding the w^arriors with their burning 
milk, and slaying with blazing inventions, thkt they made 
out of the yellow meal.” 

** And the Pequods ! was their great warrior dead before 
. ne coming of the men from over sea ?” 

“You are a woman that has never heard a tradition, or 
you would know better ? A Pequot is a weak and crawling 
cub.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 291 

“And thou — thou art, then, a Narragansett ?” 

“ Don’t I look like a man ?” 

“'I had mistaken thee for one of our nearer neighbors, 
the Mohegan Pequods ?” 

“The Mohicans are basket-makers for the Yengeese; 
but the Narragansett goes leaping through the woods like a 
wolf on the trail of the deer !” 

“ All this is quite in reason, and now thou pointest to its 
justice, I cannot fail but see it. But we have curiosity to 
know more of the great tribe. Hast ever heard of one of 
thy people, Whittal, known as Miantonimoh — ’tis a chief 
of some renown.” 

The witless youth had continued to eat at intervals, but, 
on hearing this question, he seemed suddenly to forget his 
appetite. For a moment he looked down, and then he an- 
swered slowly and not without solemnity — 

“ A man cannot live for ever.’' 

“ What !” said Faith, motioning to her deeply-interested 
auditors to restrain their impatience, “has he quitted his 
people ? And thou lived with him, Whittal, ere he came 
to his end ?” 

“ He never looked on Nipset, or Nipset on him.” 

“ I know naught of this Nipset ; tell me of the great 
Miantonimoh.” 

“ Dost need to hear twice ? The Sachem is gone to the 
far land, and Nipset will be a warrior when the next snow 
comes !” 

Disappointment threw a cloud on every countenance, 
and the beam of hope, which had been kindled in the eye 
of Euth, changed to the former painful expression of deep 
inward suffering. But F^ith still managed to repress all 
speech among those who listened, continuing the examination, 
after a short delay that her vexation rendered unavoidable. 

“ I had thought that Miantonimoh was still a warrior in 
his tribe,” she said. “ In what battle did he fall ?” 


292 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ Mohican Uncas did that wicked deed. The Pale-men 
gave him great riches to murder the Sachem.” 

“ Thou speakest of the father ; but there was another 
Miantonimoh ; he who in boyhood dwelt among the people 
of white blood.” 

Whittal listened attentively, and after seeming to rally 
his thoughts, he shook his head, saying before he again 
began to eat — 

“ There never was but one of the name, and there never 
will be another. Two eagles do not build their nests in 
the same tree.” 

“ Thou sayest truly,” continued Faith ; well knowing that 
to dispute -the information of her brother was, in effect, to 
close his mouth. “ Now tell me of Conanchett, the present 
Narragansett Sachem — he who hath leagued with Meta- 
com, and hath of late been driven from his fastness near the 
sea — doth he yet live ?” 

The expression of the brother’s countenance underwent 
another change. In place of the childish importance with 
which he had hitherto replied to the questions of his sister, 
a look of overreaching cunning gathered about his dull eye. 
The organ glanced slowly and cautiously around him, as if 
its ^ owner expected to detect some visible sign of those 
covert intentions he so evidently distrusted. Instead of 
answering, the wanderer continued his meal, though less 
like one who had need of sustenance, than one resolved to 
make no communications which might prove dangerous. 
This change was not unobserved by Faith, nor by any of 
those who so intently watched the means by which she 
had been endeavoring to thread the confused ideas of 
one so dull, and yet who at need seemed so practised 
in savage artifice. She prudently altered her manner of 
interrogating by endeavoring to lead his thoughts to other 
matters. 

“I warrant me,” continued the sister, “that thou now 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 293 


beginnest to call to mind the times wlien thou led’st the 
cattle among the bushes, and how thou wert wont to call 
on Faith to give thee food, when a-weary with threading 
the woods in quest of the kine. Hast ever been assailed by 
the JSTarragansetts thyself, Whittal, when dwelling in the 
house of a Pale-face ?” 

The brother ceased eating. Again he appeared to muse, 
as intently as was possible for one of his circumscribed 
intellects. But shaking his head in the negative, he silently 
resumed the grateful office of mastication. 

“ What ! hast come to be a warrior, and never known a 
scalp taken, or seen a fire lighted in the roof of a wig- 
wam ?” 

Whittal laid down the food, and turned to his sister. 
His face was teeming with a wild and fierce meaning, and 
he indulged in a low but triumphant laugh. When 
this exhibition of satisfaction was over, he consented to 
reply. 

“ Certain,” he said. “We went on a path in the night, 
against the lying Yengeese, and no burning of the woods 
ever scorched the ’arth as we blackened their fields ! All 
their proud housen were turned into piles of coals.” 

“ And where and when did you this act of brave ven- 
geance ? ” * 

“ They called the place after the bird of night ; as if 
an Indian name could save them from an Indian massacre !” 

“ Ha ! ’Tis of the Wish-Ton-Wish thou speakest ! But 
thou wast a sufferer, and not an actor, brother, in that 
heartless burning.” 

“ Thou liest like a wicked woman of the Palefaces as 
thou art ! Nipset was only a boy on that path, but he 
went with his people. I tell thee we singed the very ’arth 
with our brands, and not a head of them all ever rose again 
from the ashes.” 

Notwithstanding her great self-command, and the object 


294 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O K - AV I G H . 

that was constantly before the mind of Faith, she shuddered 
at the fierce pleasure with which her brother pronounced 
the extent of the vengeance that in his imaginary character 
he believed he had taken on his enemies. Still, cautious not 
to destroy an illusion which might aid her in the so long- 
defeated and so anxiously-desired discovery, the woman 
repressed her horror, and continued — 

“ Ti’ue, — yet some were spared ; surely the warriors 
carried prisoners back to their village. Thou didst not 
slay all ?” 

“ All.” 

“ Nay ; thou speakest now of the miserables who were 
wrapt in the blazing block ; but — but some without might 
have fallen into thy hands, ere the assailed sought shelter in 
the tower. Surely, surely thou didst not kill all ?” 

The hard breathing of Ruth caught the ear of Whittal, 
and for a moment he turned to regard her countenance in 
dull wonder. But again shaking his head, he answered in 
a low, positive tone — 

“ All y — aye, to the screeching women and crying 
babes!” 

“ Surely, there is a child, — I would say there is a woman 
in thy tribe of fairer skin and of form different from most 
of thy people. Was not such an one led a captive from the 
burning of the Wish-Ton-Wish ?” 

“ Dost think the deer will live with the wolf, or hast ever 
found the cowardly pigeon in the nest of the hawk ?” 

“ Nay, thou art of different color thyself, Whittal, and it 
well may be thou art not alone.” 

The youth regarded his sister a moment with marked 
displeasure, and then on turning to eat he muttered — 

“ There is as much fire in snow as truth in a lying Yen- 
geese 1” 

“ This examination must close,” said Content, with a 
heavy sigh ; “ at another hour we may hope to push the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 295 


matter to some more fortunate result ; but yonder cometh 
one charged with especial service from the towns below, 
as would seem by the fact that he disregardeth the holiness 
of the day, no less than by the earnest manner in which 
he is journeying.” 

As the individual named was visible to all who chose to 
look in the direction of the hamlet, his sudden appearance 
caused a general interruption to the interest which had been 
so strongly awakened on a subject that was familiar to every 
resident in the valley. 

The early hour, the gait at which the stranger urged his 
horse, the manner in \yhich he passed the open and inviting 
door . of the Whip-Poor-Will, proclaimed him a messenger, 
who probably bore some communication of importance from 
the Government of the Colony to the younger Heath- 
cote, who filled the highest station of official authority 
in that distant settlement. Observations to this purport had 
passed from mouth to mouth, and curiosity was actively 
alive by the time the horseman rode into the court. There 
he dismounted, and covered with the dust of the road he 
presented himself, with the air of one who had passed the 
night in the saddle, before the man he sought. 

“ I have orders for Captain Content Heathcote,” said the 
messenger, saluting all around him with the usual grave but 
studied courtesy of the people to whom he belonged. 

“ He is here to receive and to obey,” was the answer. 

The traveller wore a little of that mysteriousness that is 
so grateful to certain minds, which, from inability to com- 
mand respect in any other manner, are fond of making 
secrets of matters that might as well be revealed. In obe- 
dience to this feeling he expressed a desire that his commu- 
nications might be made apart. Content quietly motioned 
for him to follow, leading the* way into an inner apartment 
of the house. As a new direction was given by this inter- 
ruption to the thoughts of the spectators of the foregoing 


296 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

scene, we shall also take the opportunity to digress, in order 
to lay before the reader some g'eneral facts that may be 
necessary to the connexion of the subsequent parts of the 
legend. 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 297 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“ Be certain what you do, sir ; lest your justice 
Prove violence.” 

WufTEE's Tale. 

The designs of the celebrated Metacom had been be- 
trayed to the Colonists by the treachery of a subordinate 
warrior, named Sausaman. The punishment of this treason 
led to inquiries which terminated in accusations against the 
great Sachem of the Wampanoags. Scorning to vindicate 
himself before enemies that he hated, and perhaps dis- 
trusting their clemency, Metacom no longer endeavored to 
cloak his proceedings, but throwing aside the emblems of 
peace, he openly appeared with an armed hand. 

The tragedy had commenced about a year before the 
period at which the tale has now arrived. A scene not un- 
like that detailed in the foregoing pages took place ; the 
brand, the knife, and the tomahawk doing their work of 
destruction, without pity and without remorse. But unlike 
the inroad of the Wish-Ton-Wish, this expedition was im- 
mediately followed by others, until the whole of New 
England was engaged in the celebrated war, to which we 
have before referred. 

The entire white population of the colonies of New- 
England had shortly before been estimated at one hundred 
and twenty thousand souls. Of this number it was thought 
that sixteen thousand men were capable of bearing arms. 
Had time been given for the maturity of the plans of Meta- 
com, he might have readily assembled bands of warriors, 
who, aided by their familiarity with the woods, and accus- 


298 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

tomed to the privations of such a warfare, would have 
threatened serious danger to the growing strength of the 
whites. But the ordinary and selfish feelings of man were 
as active among these wild tribes as they are known to be 
in more artificial communities. The indefatigable Metacom, 
like that Indian hero of our own times, Tecumthe, had 
passed years in endeavoring to appease ancient enmities and 
to lull jealousies, in order that all of red blood might unite 
in crushing a foe that promised,’ should he be longer undis- 
turbed in his march to power, soon to be too formidable for 
their united efforts to subdue. The premature explosion in 
some measure averted the danger. It gave the English 
time to strike several severe blows against the tribe of their 
great enemy, before his allies had determined to make com- 
mon cause in his design. The summer and autumn of 1675 
had been passed in active hostilities between the English 
and Wampanoags, without openly drawing any other nation 
into the contest. Some of the Pequots, with their depen- 
dent tribes, even took sides with the whites ; and we read 
of the Mohegans being actively employed in harassing the 
Sachem on his well known retreat from that neck* of 
land, where he had been hemmed in by the English, 
with the expectation that he might be starved into submis- 
sion. 

The warfare of the first summer was, as might be expected, 
attended by various degrees of success, fortune quite as 
often favoring the red-men, in their desultory attempts at 
annoyance, as their more disciplined enemies. Instead of 
confining his operations to his own circumscribed and easily 
environed districts, Metacoln had led his warriors to the dis- 
tant settlements on the Connecticut ; and it was during the 
operations of this season that several of the towns on that 
river were first assailed and laid in ashes. Active hostilities 
had in some measure ceased between the Wampanoags and 
the English, with the cold weather, most of the troops 


TH.E WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 299 


retiring to their homes, while the Indians apparently paused 
to take breath for their final effort. 

It was, however, previously to this cessation of activity, 
that the Commissioners of the United Colonies, as they 
were called, met to devise the means of a concerted resist- 
ance. Unlike their former dangers from the same quarter, 
it was manifest by the manner in which a hostile feeling was 
spreading around their whole frontier, that a leading spirit 
had given as much of unity and design to the movements 
of the foe as could probably ever he created among a people 
so separated by distance and so divided in communities. 
Right or wrong, the Colonists gravely decided that the war 
on their part was just. Great preparations were therefore 
made to carry it on the ensuing summer, in a manner more 
suited to their means, and to the absolute necessities of 
their situation. It was in consequence of the arrange- 
ments made for bringing a portion of the inhabitants 
of the Colony of Connecticut into the field that we find 
the principal characters of our legend in the warlike 
guise in which they have just been re-introduced to the 
reader. 

Although the Narragansetts had not at first been openly 
implicated in the attacks on the Colonists, facts soon came 
to the knowledge of the latter, which left no doubt of the 
state of feeling in that nation. Many of their young men 
were discovered among the followers of Metacom, and arms 
taken from whites who had been slain in the different 
encounters were also seen in their villages. One of the first 
measures of the Commissioners, therefore, was to anticipate 
more serious opposition, by directing an overwhelming force 
against this people. The party collected on that occasion 
was probably thi largest military body which the English 
at that early day had ever assembled in their Colonies. It 
consisted of a thousand men, of whom no inconsiderable 
number was cavalry — a species of troops that, as all subse- 


300 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

quent experience has shown, is admirably adapted to opera- 
tions against so active and so subtle a foe. 

The attack was made in the depth of winter, and it 
proved fearfully destructive to the assailed. The defence of 
Conan chet, the young Sachem of the Narragansetts, was 
every way worthy of his high character for courage and 
mental resources, nor was the victory gained without serious 
loss to the Colonists. The native chief had collected his 
warriors, and taken post on a small area of firm land that 
was situated in the centre of a densely wooded swamp; 
and the preparations for resistance betrayed a singular fami- 
liarity with the military expedients of a white man. There 
had been a palisadoed breast-work, a species of redoubt, 
and a regular block-house to overcome, ere the Colonists 
could penetrate into the fortified village itself. The first 
attempts were unsuccessful, the Indians having repulsed 
their enemies with loss. But better arms and greater con- 
cert finally prevailed, though not without a struggle that 
lasted for many hours, and not until the defendants were, in 
truth, nearly surrounded. 

The events of that memorable day made a deep impres- 
sion on the minds of men who were rarely excited by any 
incidents of a great and moving character. It was still 
the subject of earnest, and not unfrequently of melancholy 
discourse, around the fire-sideS of the Colonists ; nor was 
the victory achieved without accompaniments, which, how- 
ever unavoidable they might have been, had a tendency to 
raise doubts in the minds of conscientious religionists, con- 
cerning the lawfulness of their cause. It is said that a vil- 
lage of six hundred cabins was burnt, and that hundreds 
of dead and wounded were consumed in the conflagra- 
tion. A thousand warriors were thought to have lost 
their lives in this affair, and it was believed that the 
power of the nation was broken for ever. The sufferers 
among the Colonists themselves were numerous, and 


THE WEPT OF WISH -TON -WISH. 301 


mourning came into a vast many families, with the tidings 
of victory. 

In this expedition most of the men of the Wish-Ton- 
Wish had been conspicuous actors, under the orders of 
Content. They had not escaped with impunity ; but it was 
confidently hoped that their courage was to meet its reward 
in a long continuance of peace, which was the more desira- 
ble on account of their remote and exposed situation. 

In the meantime the Narragansetts were far from being 
subdued. Throughout the whole continuance of the incle- 
ment season they had caused alarms on the fi’ontiers ; and 
in one or two instance^ their renowned Sachem had taken 
signal vengeance for the dire affair in which his people had 
so heavily suffered. As the spring advanced the inroads 
became still more frequent, and the appearances of danger 
so far increased as to require a new call on the Colonists to 
arm. The- messenger introduced in the last chapter was 
charged with matter that had a reference to the events of 
this war ; and it was with an especial communication of 
great urgency that he had now demanded his secret 
audience with the leader of the military force of the 
valley. 

“ Thou hast affairs of moment to deal with. Captain 
Heathcote,” said the hard-riding traveller, when he found 
himself alone with Content. “ The orders •of his Honor are 
to spare neither whip nor spur, until the chief men of the 
borders shall be warned of the actual situation of the Co- 
lony.” 

“ Hath aught of moving interest occurred that his Honor 
deemeth there is necessity for unusual watchfulness ? We 
had hoped that the prayers of the pious were not in vain ; 
and that a time of quiet was about to succeed to that 
violence, of which, bounden by our social covenants, we 
have unhappily been unwilling spectators. The bloody 
assault of Pettyquamscott hath exercised our minds severely 


302 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

- — nay, it hath even raised doubts of the lawfulness of some 
of our deeds.” 

“ Thou hast a commendable spirit of forgiveness, Captain 
Heathcote, or thy memory would extend to other scenes 
than those which bear relation to the punishment of an 
enemy so remorseless. It is said on the river, that the valley 
of Wish-Ton-Wish hath been visited by the savage in its 
day, and men speak freely of the wrongs suffered by its 
owners on that pitiless occasion.” 

“ The truth may not be denied, even that good should 
come thereof. It is certain that much suffering was inflicted 
on me and on mine, by the inroad of which you speak ; 
nevertheless we have ever striven to consider it as a merci- 
ful chastisement inflicted for manifold sins, rather than as a 
subject that might be remembered, in order to stimulate 
passions that, in all reason as in all charity, should slumber 
as much as a weak nature will allow.” 

“ This is well. Captain Heathcote, and in exceeding con- 
formity with the most received doctrines,” returned the 
stranger, slightly gaping, either from want of rest the pre- 
vious night, or from disinclination to so grave a subject ; “ but 
it hath little connexion with present duties. My charge 
beareth especial concern with the further destruction of the 
Indians, rather than to any inward searchings into the con- 
dition of our own mental misgivings, concerning any right 
it may be thought proper to question, that hath a reference 
to the duty of self-protection. There is no unworthy 
dweller in the Connecticut Colony, sir, that hath endeavor- 
ed more to cultivate a tender conscience than the wretched 
sinner who standeth before you ; for I have the exceeding 
happiness to sit under the outpourings of a spirit that hath 
few mortal superiors in the matter of precious gifts. I now 
speak of Dr. Calvin Pope ; a most worthy and soul-quieting 
divine ; one who spareth not the goad when the conscience 
necdeth pricking, nor hesitateth to dispense consolation to 


THE WEPT OP W I S H - T O N - W I S If . 303 


him who seeth his fallen estate ; and one that never faileth 
to deal with charity, and humbleness of spirit, and forbear- 
ance with the failings of friends, and forgiveness of enemies, 
as the chiefest signs of a renovated moral existence ; and, 
therefore, there can be but* little reason to distrust the 
spiritual rightfulness of all that listen to the riches of his 
discourse. But when it cometh to be question of life op 
death, a matter of dominion and possession of these fair 
lands, that the Lord hath given — why, sir, then I say that, 
like the Israelites dealing with the sinful occupants of 
Canaan, it behoveth us to be true to each other, and to look 
upon the heathen with a distrustful eye.” 

“ There may be reason in that thou utterest,” observed 
Content, sorrowfully. “ Still it is lawful to mourn even the 
necessity which conduceth to all this strife, I had hoped 
that they who direct the Councils of the Colony might have 
resorted to less violent means of persuasion, to lead the 
savage back to reason, than that which cometh from the 
armed hand. Of what nature is thy especial errand ? ” 

“Of deep urgency, sir, as will be seen in the narration,” 
returned the other, dropping his voice like one habitually 
given to the dramatic part of diplomacy, however unskilful 
he might have been in its more intellectual accomplishments. 
“ Thou wast in the Pettyquamscott scourging, and need 
not be reminded of the manner in which the Lord dealt 
with pur enemies on that favor-dispensing day ; but it may 
not be known to one so remote from the stirring and daily 
transactions of Christendom, in what manner the savage 
hath taken the chastisement. The restless and still uncon- 
quered Conanchet hath deserted his towns and taken refuge 
in the. open woods ; where it exceedeth the skill, and usage 
of our civilized men of war, to discover, at all times, the 
position and force' of their enemies. The consequences may 
be easily conjectured. The savage hath broken in upon, 
and laid waste, in whole or in part, firstly — Lancaster, on 


304 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the tenth,” counting on his fingers, “ when many were led 
into captivity ; secondly, Marlborough, on the twentieth ; on 
the thirteenth ultimo, Groton ; Warwick, on the seven- 
teenth ; and Rehoboth, Chelmsford, Andover,* Weymouth, 
and divers other places, have been greatly sufferers, between 
the latter period and the day when I quitted the abode of 
his Honor. Pierce of Scituate, a stout warrior, and one 
practised in the wiles of this nature of warfare, hath been 
cut off with a wdiole company of followers ; and Wadsworth 
and Brockleband, men known and esteemed for courage and 
skill, have left their bones in the woods, sleeping in common 
among their luckless followers.” 

“ These are truly tidings to cause us to mourn over the 
abandoned condition of our nature,” said Content, in whose 
meek mind there was no affectation of regrets on such a 
subject. “ It is not easy to see in what manner the evil 
may be arrested without again going forth to do battle.” 

“ Such is the opinion of his Honor, and of all who sit 
with him in Council ; for we have sufficient knowledge of 
the proceedings of the enemy, to be sure that the master- 
spirit of wickedness, in the person of him called Philip, is 
raging up and down the whole extent of the borders, awaken- 
ing the tribes to what he calleth the necessity of resisting 
further aggression, and stirring up their vengeance by divers 
subtle expedients of malicious cunning.” 

“ And what manner of proceeding hath been ordered in 
so urgent a strait by the wisdom of our rulers ? ” 

“ Firstly, there is a fast ordained, that we come to the 
duty as men purified by mental struggle and deep self- 
examination ; secondly, it is recommended that the congre- 
gations deal with more than wonted severity with all back- 
sliders and evil-doers, in order that the towns may not fall 
under the Divine displeasure, as happened to them that 
dwelt in the devoted cities of Canaan ; thirdly, it is deter- 
mined to lend our feeble aid to the ordering of Providence, 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 305 

by . calling forth the allotted number of the trained bands ; 
and fourthly, it is contemplated to counteract the seeds of 
vengeance, by setting a labor-earning price on the heads of 
our enemies.” 

“ I accord with the three first of these expedients, as the 
known and lawful resorts of Christian men,” said Content. 
“ But the latter seemeth a measure that needeth to be enter- 
tained with great wariness of manner, and some distrust of 
purpose.” 

“ Fear not, since all suiting and economical discretion is 
active in the minds of our rulers, who have pondered saga- 
ciously on so grave a policy. It is not intended to offer 
more than half the reward that is held forth by our more 
wealthy and .elder sister of the Bay ; and there is some 
acute question about the necessity of bidding at all for any 
of tender years. And now. Captain Heathcote, with the 
good leave of so respectable a subject, I will proceed to lay 
before you the details of the number and the nature of the 
force that it is hoped you will lead in person in the ensuing 
campaign.” 

As the result of that which followed will be seen in the 
course of the legend, it is not necessary to accompany the 
Messenger any further in his communication. We shall 
therefore leave him and Content busied with the matter of 
their conference, and proceed to give some account of the 
other personages connected with our subject. 

When interrupted, as already related, by the arrival of the 
stranger. Faith had endeavored by a new expedient to elicit 
some evidences of a more just remembrance from the dull 
mind of her brother. Accompanied by most of the depen- 
dents of the family, she had led him to the summit of that 
hill which was now crowned with the foliage of a young and 
thrifty orchard, and placing him at the foot of the ruin, she 
tried to excite a train of recollections that should lead to 
deeper impressions, and possibly, by their aid, to a discovery 


306 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 

of tlie important circumstance that all so much longed to 
have explained. 

The experiment produced no happy result. The place, 
and indeed the whole valley, had undergone so great a 
change, that one more liberally gifted might have hesitated 
to believe them those that have been described in our earlier 
pages. This rapid alteration of objects, which elsewhere 
know so little change in a long course of ages, is a fact 
familiar to all who reside in the newer districts of the 
Union. It is caused by the rapid improvements that are 
made in the first stages of a settlement. To fell the forest 
alone, is to give an entirely new aspect to the view ; and it 
is far from easy to see in a village and in cultivated fields, 
however recent the existence of the one or imperfect the 
other, any traces of a spot that a short time before was 
known as the haunt of the wolf or the refuge of the deer. 

The features, and more particularly the eye of his sister, 
had stirred long-dormant recollections in the mind of 
Whittal King ; and though these glimpses of the past were 
detached and indistinct, they had sufficed to quicken that 
ancient confidence which was partially exhibited in their 
opening conference. But it exceeded his feeble powers to 
recall objects that would appeal to no very lively sympathies, 
and which had themselves undergone so material alterations. 
Still the witless youth did not look on the rum entirely 
without some strivings of his nature. Although the sward 
around its base was lively in the brightest verdure of early 
summer, and the delicious odor of the wild clover saluted 
his senses, still there was that in the blackened and ragged 
walls, the position of the tower, and the view of the sur- 
rounding hills, shorn as so much of them now were, that 
evidently spoke to his earliest impressions. He looked at 
the spot as a hound gazes at a master who has been so long 
lost as even to deaden his instinct ; and at times, as his com- 
panions endeavored to aid his faint images, it would seem as 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 307 

if memory were likely to triumph, and all those deceptive 
opinions which habit and Indian wiles had drawn over his 
dull mind, were about to vanish before the light of reality. 
But the allurements of a life in which there was so much of 
the freedom of nature mingled with the fascinating pleasures 
of the chase and of the woods, were not to be dispossessed 
so readily. When Faith artfully led him back to those 
animal enjoyments of which he had been so fond in boy^ 
hood, the fantasy of her brother seemed most to waver ; but 
whenever it became apparent that the dignity of a warrior, 
and all the more recent and far more alluring delights of 
his later life, were to be abandoned ere his being could return 
into its former existence, hfs dull faculties obstinately refused 
to lend themselves to a change that, in his case, \xould have 
been little short of that attributed to the transmigration of 
souls. 

After an hour of anxious, and frequently, on the part of 
Faith, of angry efforts to extract some evidences of his 
recollection of the condition of life to which he had once 
belonged, the attempt for the moment was abandoned. At 
times, it seemed as if the woman were about to prevail. 
He often called himself WTiittal, but he continued to insist 
that he was also Nipset, a man of the Narragansetts, who 
had a mother in his wigwam, and who had reason to be- 
lieve that he should be numbered among the warriors of his 
tribe ere the fall of another snow. 

In the meantime, a very different scene was passing at 
the place where the first examination had been held, and 
which had been immediately deserted by most of the spec- 
tators, on the sudden arrival of the Messenger. But a soli- 
tary individual was seated at the spacious board, which had 
been provided alike for those who owned and presided over 
the estate, and for their dependents to the very meanest. 
The individual who remained had thrown himself into a 
seat, less with the air of him who consults the demands of 


308 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

. appetite, than of one whose thoughts were so engrossing as 
to render him indifferent to the situation or employment of 
his more corporeal part. His head rested on his arms, the 
latter effectually concealing the face, as they were spread 
over the plain but exquisitely neat table of cherry-wood, 
which, by being placed at the side of one of less costly 
material, was intended to form the only distinction between 
the guests, as, in more ancient times and in other countries, 
the salt was known to mark the difference in rank among 
those who partook of the same feast. 

“ Mark,” said a timid voice at his elbow, “ thou art weary 
with this night-watching, and with the scouting on the 
hills. Dost not think of taking food before seeking thy 
rest?” 

“ I sleep not,” returned the youth, raising his head, and 
gently pushing aside the basin of simple food that was 
offered by one whose eye looked feelingly on his flushed 
features, and whose suffused cheek perhaps betrayed there 
was a secret consciousness that the glance was kinder than 
maiden diffidence should allow. “ I sleep not, Martha, nor 
doth it seem to me that I shall ever sleep again.” 

“ Thou frightest me by this wild and unhappy eye. Hast 
suffered aught in the march on the mountains ?” 

“ Dost think one of my years and strength unable to bear 
the weariness of a few hours’ watching in the forest ? The 
body is well, but the mind endureth grievously.” 

“ And wilt not say what causeth this vexation ? Thou 
knowest, Mark, that there are none in this dwelling — nay, I 
am certain, I might add in this valley, that do not wish 
thee happiness.” . 

“ ’Tis kind to say it, good Martha ; but thou never hadst 
a sister !” 

“ ’Tis true, I am all of my race ; and yet to me it seem- 
eth that no tie of blood could ha\ e been nearer than the 
love I bore to her who is lost.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH- TON-WISH. 309 

“Nor mother! Thou never knewest what ’tie to reve-" 
rence a parent.” 

“ And is not thy mother mine ?” answered a voice that 
was deeply melancholy, and yet so soft that it caused the 
young man to gaze intently at his companion, for a mo- 
ment, ere he again spoke. 

“ True, true,” he said hurriedly. “ Thou must and dost 
love her who hath nursed thy infancy, and brought thee, 
with care and tenderness, to so fair and happy a woman- 
hood.” The eye of Martha grew brighter, and the color of 
her healthful cheek deepened, as Mark unconsciously uttered 
this simple commendation of her appearance ; but as she 
shrank, with female sensitiveness, from his observation, the 
change was unnoticed, and he continued : “ Thou seest that 
my mother is drooping hourly under this sorrow for our 
little Ruth ; and who can say what may be the end of a 
grief that endureth so long ?” 

“’Tis true that there hath been reason to fear much in 
her behalf; but, of late, hope hath gotten the better of 
apprehension. Thou dost not well, nay, I am not assured 
thou dost not evil, to permit this discontent with Provi- 
dence, because thy mother yieldeth to a little more than 
her usual mourning, on account of the unexpected return of 
one so nearly connected with her that we have lost.” 

“ ’Tis not that, girl — ’tis not that I” 

“ If thou refusest to say what ’tis that giveth thee this 
pain, I can do little more than pity.” 

“ Listen, and I will say. It is now many years, as thou 
knowest, since the savage Mohawk or Narragansett, Pequot 
or Wampanoag, broke in upon our settlement, and did his 
vengeance. We were then children, Martha; and ’tis as 
a child that I have thought of that merciless burning. 
Our little Ruth was, like thyself, a blooming infant of 
some seven or eight years; and I know not how the 
folly hath beset me, but it hath been ever as one of that 


310 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

innocence and age, that I have continued to think of my 
sister.” 

“ Surely thou knowest that time cannot stay ; the greater 
therefore is the reason that we should be industrious to im- 
prove ” 

“ ’Tis what our duty teacheth. I tell thee, Martha, that 
at night, when dreams come over me, as they sometimes 
will, and I see our Ruth wandering in the forest, it is as a 
playful, laughing child, such as Ave knew her; and even 
while waking, do I fancy my sister at my knee, as she was 
wont to stand when listening to those idle tales with which 
we lightened our childhood.” 

“ But we had our birth in the same year and month — 
dost think of me too, Mark, as one of that childish age ?” 

“ Of thee ! That cannot well be. Do I not see that 
thou art grown into the condition of a woman, that thy little 
tresses of broAvn have become the jet-black and flowing hair 
that becomes thy years, and that thou hast the stature — and, 
I say it not in idleness of speech, Martha, for thou knowest 
my tongue is no vain flatterer — but do I not see that 
thou hast grown into all the excellence of a most comely 
maiden ? But ’tis not thus, or rather ’twas not thus, with 
her we mourn ; for till this hour have I ever pictured my 
sister the little innocent we sported with, that gloomy night 
she was snatched from our arms by the cruelty of the 
savage.” 

“And what hath changed this pleasing image of our 
Ruth ?” asked his companion, half-covering her face to con- 
ceal the still deeper glow of female gratification which had 
been kindled by the words just heard. “ I often think of her 
as thou hast described, nor do I now see why Ave may not still 
believe her, if she yet live, all that we could desire to see.” 

“ That cannot be. The delusion is gone, and in its place 
a frightful truth has visited me. Here is Whittal Ring, 
whom we lost a boy ; thou seest he is returned a man, and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 311 

a savage! No, no ; my sister is no longer the child I loved 
to think her, but one grown into the estate of woman- 
hood.” 

“ Thou thinkest of her unkindly, while thou thinkest of 
others far less • endowed by nature with too much indul- 
gence ; for thou rememberest, Mark, she was ever of more 
pleasing aspect than any that we knew.” 

“I know not that — I say not that — I think not that. 
But be she what hardships and exposure may have made 
her, still must Ruth Heathcote be far too good for an Indian 
wigwam. Oh ! ’tis horrible to believe that she is the bond- 
woman, the servitor, the wife of a savage !” 

Martha recoiled, and an entire minute passed, during 
which she made no reply. It was evident that the revolting 
idea for the first time crossed her mind, and all the natural 
feelings of gratified and maiden pride vanished before the 
genuine and pure sympathies of a female bosom. 

“This cannot be,” she at length murmured — “it can 
never be ! Our Ruth must still remember the lessons taught 
her in her infancy. She knoweth she is born of Christian 
lineage ! of reputable name ! of exalted hope ! of glorious 
promise ! ” 

“ Thou seest by the manner of Whittal, who is of greater 
age, how little of that taught can withstand the wily savage.” 

“ But Whittal faileth of Nature’s gifts ; he hath ever 
been below the rest of men in understanding.” 

“And yet to what degree of Indian cunning hath he 
already attained.” 

“ But Mark,” rejoined his companion timidly, as if, while 
she felt all its force, she only consented to urge the argu- 
ment in tenderness to the harassed feelings of the brother, 
“ we are of equal years ; that which hath happened to me, 
may well have been the fortune of our Ruth.” 

“ Dost mean, that being unespoused thyself, or that having 
at thy years inclinations that are free, my sister may have 


312 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 

escaped the bitter curse of being the wife of a Narragansett, 
or what is not less frightful, the slave of his humors ? ” 

“ Truly, I mean little else than the former.” 

“ And not the latter,” continued the young man, with a 
quickness that showed some sudden revolution in his 
thoughts. “ But though with opinions that are decided, and 
with kindness awakened in behalf of one favored, thou 
hesitatest, Martha, it is not like that a girl left in the fetters 
of savage life would so long pause to think. Even here in 
the settlements all are not difficult of judgment as thou ! ” 

The long lashes vibrated above the dark eyes of the 
maiden, and for an instant it seemed as if she had no in- 
tention to reply. But looking timidly aside, she answered 
in a voice so low, that her companion scarcely gathered the 
meaning of that she uttered. 

“ I know not how I may have earned this false character 
among my friends,” she said ; “ for to me it ever seemeth 
that what I feel and think is but too easily known.” 

“ Then is the smart gallant from the Hartford town, who 
cometh and goeth so often between this distant settlement 
and his father’s house, better assured of his success than I 
had thought. He will not journey the long road much 
oftener alone !” 

“ I have angered thee, Mark, or thou wouldst not speak 
with so cold an eye to one who hath ever lived with thee in 
kindness.” 

“ I do not speak in anger, for ’twould be both unreasonable 
and unmanly to deny all of thy sex right of choice ; but yet 
it doth seem right that when taste is suited and judgment 
appeased, there should be little motive for withholding 
speech.” 

“ And wouldst thou have a maiden of my years in haste 
to believe that she was sought, when haply it may be that 
he of whom you speak is in quest of thy society and friend- 
ship, rather than of my favor ? ” 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 


31.3 


“ Then might he spare much labor and some bodily suffer- 
ing, unless he finds great pleasure in the saddle ; for I know 
not a youth in the Connecticut Colony for whom I have 
smaller esteem. Others may see matter of approval in him, 
but to me, he is of bold speech, ungainly air, and great dis- 
agreeableness of discourse.” 

“ I am happy that at last we find ourselves of one mind ; 
for that thou sayest of the youth, is much as I have long 
considered hiin,” 

“ Thou ! Thou thinkest of the gallant thus ! Then why 
dost listen to his suit? I had believed thee a girl too 
honest, Martha, to affect such niceties of deception. With 
this opinion of his character why not refuse his companv ?” 

“ Can a maiden speak too hastily ? ” 

“ And if here, and ready to ask thy favor, the answer 
would be ” 

“ No ! ” said the girl, raising her eyes for an instant, and 
bashfully meeting the eager look of her companion, though 
she uttered the monosyllable firmly. 

Mark seemed bewildered. An entirely new and a novel 
idea took possession of his brain. The change was ap- 
parent by his altering countenance, and a cheek that glowed 
like flame. What he might have said, most of our readers 
over fifteen may presume ; but at that moment the voices 
of those who had accompanied Whittal to the ruin were 
heard on their return, and Martha glided away so silently 
as to leave him for a moment ignorant of her absence. 


314 T II a \V E P T OF W I S H - T 0 K - w I S H . 


CHAPTER XXIL 

“ Oh! when amid the throngs of men 
The heart gi’ows sick of hollow mirth, 

How willingly we turn us, then, 

Away from this cold earth ; 

And look into thy azure breast, 

For seats of innocence and rest 1” 

Betant’s Skies. 

• The day was the Sabbath. This religious festival, which 
is even now observed in most of the States of the Union 
with a strictness that is little heeded in the rest of Christen- 
dom, was then reverenced with a severity suited to the 
austere habits of the Colonists. The circumstance that one 
should journey on such a day, had attracted the observation 
of all in the hamlet ; but as the stranger had been seen to 
ride towards the dwelling of the Heathcotes, and the times 
were known to teem with more than ordinary interest to 
the Province, it was believed that he found his justification 
in some apology of necessity. Still none ventured forth to 
inquire into the motive of this extraordinary visit. At the 
end of an hour the horseman was seen to depart as he had 
arrived, seemingly urged on by the calls of some pressing 
emergency. He had in truth proceeded further with his 
tidings, though the lawfulness of discharging even this im- 
perious duty on the Sabbath had been gravely considered 
in the Councils of those who had sent him. Happily they 
had found, or thought they had found, in some of the nar- 
ratives of the sacred volume, a sufiicient precedent to bid 
their messenger proceed. 

In the meantime the unusual excitement which had been 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 315 

SO unexpectedly awakened in the dwelling of the Heath- 
cotes, began to subside in that quiet which is in so beautiful 
accordance with the sacred character of the day. The sun 
rose bright and cloudless over the hills, every vapor of the 
past night melting before his genial warmth into the in- 
visible element. The valley then lay in that species of holy 
calm which conveys so sweet and so forcible an appeal to 
the heart. The world presented a picture of the glorious 
handywork of him who seems to invite the gratitude and 
adoration of his creatures. To the mind yet untainted, 
there is exquisite loveliness and even godlike repose in such 
a scene. The universal stillness permits the softest natural 
sounds to be heard ; and^ the buzz- of the 1^ or the wih^ 
the humming-bir d reaches the ear like the Ipu d note? ^> 
a general anthem. This temporary repose is full of mean- 
ing. It should teach how much of the beauty of this 
world’s enjoyments, how much of its peace, and even how 
much of the comeliness of nature itself, is dependent on the 
spirit by which we are actuated. When man reposes, all 
around him seems anxious to contribute to his rest ; and 
when he abandons the contentions of grosser interests, to 
elevate his spirit, all living things appear to unite in worship. 
Although this apparent sympathy of nature may be less 
true than imaginative, its lesson is not destroyed, since it 
sutRciently shows that what man chooses to consider good 
in this world is good, and that most of its strife and de- 
formities proceed from his own perversity. 

The tenants of the valley of the Wish-Ton-Wish were 
little wont to disturb the quiet of the Sabbath. Their error 
lay in the other extreme, since they impaired the charities 
of life by endeavoring to raise man altogether above the 
weakness of his nature. They substituted the revolting 
aspect of a sublimated austerity, for that gracious though 
regulated exterior, by which all in the body may best illus- 
trate their hopes or exhibit their gratitude. The peculiar 


>-fr 


316 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 

air of those of whom we write, was generated by the error 
of the times and of the country, though something of its 
singularly rigid character might have been derived from the 
precepts and example of the individual who had the direc- 
tion of the spiritual interests of the parish. As this person 
will have further connexion with the matter of the legend, 
he shall be more familiarly introduced in its pages. 

The Reverend Meek Wolfe was, in spirit, a rare combina- 
tion of the humblest self-abasement and of fierce spiritual 
denunciation. Like so many others of his sacred calling in 
the Colony be inhabited, he was not only the descendant of 
a line of priests, but it was his greatest earthly hope that he 
should also become the progenitor of a race in whom the 
ministry was to be perpetuated as severely as if the regulated 
formula of the Mosaic dispensation were still in existence. 
He had been educated in the infant college of Harvard, an 
institution that the emigrants from England had the wisdom 
and enterprise to found within the first five-and-twenty years 
of their colonial residence. Here this scion of so pious and 
orthodox a stock had abundantly qualified himself for the 
intellectual warfare of his future life, by regarding one set of 
opinions so steadily, as to leave little reason to apprehend 
he would ever abandon the most trifling of the outworks of 
his faith. No citadel ever presented a more hopeless cur- 
tain to the besieger, than did the mind of this zealot to the 
efforts of conviction ; for on the side of his opponents, he 
contrived that every avenue should be closed by a wall 
blank as indomitable obstinacy could oppose. He appeared 
to think that all the minor conditions of argument and rea- 
son had been disposed of by his ancestors, and that it only 
remained for him to strengthen the many defences of his 
subject, and now and then to scatter by a fierce sortie the 
doctrinal skirmishers who might occasionally approach his 
parish. There was a remarkable singleness of mind in this 
religionist, which, while it in some measure rendered even 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 


317 


his bigotry respectable, greatly aided in' clearing the knotty 
subject with which he dealt, of much embarrassing matter. 
In his eyes, the straight and narrow path would hold but few 
besides his own flock. He admitted some fortuitous excep- 
tions, in one or two of the nearest parishes, with whose 
clergymen he was in the habit of exchanging pulpits ; and 
perhaps, here and there, in a saint of the other hemisphere, 
or of the more distant towns of the Colonies, the brightness 
of whose faith, was something aided, in his eyes, by distance, 
as this opake globe of ours is thought to appear a ball of 
light to those who inhabit its satellite. In short, there was 
an admixture of seeming charity with an exclusiveness of 
hope, an unweariness of exertion with a coolness of exterior, 
a disregard of self with the most complacent security, and 
an uncomplaining submission to temporal evils with the 
loftiest spiritual pretensions, that in some measure rendered 
him a man as difficult to comprehend as to describe 

At an early hour in the forenoon, a little bell that was 
suspended in an awkward belfry perched on the roof of the 
meeting-house, began to summon the congregation to the 
place of worship. The call was promptly obeyed, and ere 
the first notes had reached the echoes of the hills, the wide 
and grassy street was covered with family groups, all taking 
the same direction. Foremost ■ in each little party walked 
the austere father, perhaps bearing on his arms a suckled 
infant, or some child yet too young to sustain its own 
weight ; while at a decent distance followed the equally 
grave matron, casting oblique and severe glances at the little 
troop around her, in whom acquired habits had yet some 
conquests to obtain over the lighter impulses of vanity. 
Where there was no child to need support, or where the 
mother chose to assume the office of bearing her infant in 
person, the man was seen to carry one of the heavy muskets 
of the day ; and when his arms were otherwise employed, 
the stoutest of his boys served in the capacity of armor- 


318 THE WEPT OF WISH -TON-WISH. 

bearer. But in no instance was this needful precaution neg' 
lected, the state of the Province and the character of the 
enemy requiring that vigilance should mingle even with 
their devotions. There was no loitering on the path, no 
light and worldly discourse by the way, nor even any salu- 
tations, other than those grave and serious reeognitions by 
hat and eye, which usage tolerated as the utmost limit of 
courtesy .on the weekly festival. 

When the bell ehanged its tone. Meek appeared from the 
gate of the fortified house where he resided, in quality of 
castellan, on aecount of its public character, its additional 
security, and the circumstance that his studious habits per' 
mitted him to diseharge the trust with less waste of manual 
labor than it w ould cost the village were the responsible 
ofiiee confided to one of more active habits. His consort 
followed, but at even a greater distance than that taken by 
the wives of other men, as if she felt the awful necessity of 
averting even the remotest possibility of scandal from one 
of so sacred a profession. Nine offspring of various ages, 
and one female assistant, of years too tender to be a wife 
herself, composed the household of the divine ; and it was 
a proof of the salubrious air of the valley that all w^ere 
present, since nothing but illness was ever deemed a suflB- 
eient excuse for absence from the common 'worship. As 
this little flock issued from the palisadoes, a female, in whose 
pale cheek the effects of recent illness might yet be traced, 
held open the gate for the entrance of Reuben Ring, and a 
stout youth, who bore the prolific consort of the former, 
with her bounteous gift, into the eitadel of the village, a 
place of refuge that nothing but the undaunted resolution 
of the woman prevented her from occupying before, since 
more than half of the children of the valley had first seen 
the light within the security of its defences. 

The family of Meek preeeded him into the temple, and 
when the feet of the minister himself crossed its threshold. 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 319 


there was no human form visible without its walls. The 
bell ceased its monotonous and mournful note, and the tall, 
gaunt form of the divine moved through the narrow aisle to 
its usual post, with the air of one who had already more 
than half rejected the burden of bodily encumbrance. A 
searching and stern glance was thrown around, as if he 
possessed an instinctive power to detect all delinquents, and 
then seating himself, the deep stillness that always preceded 
the exercises, reigned in the place. 

When the divine next showed his austere countenance to 
his expecting people, its meaning was expressive rather of 
some matter of worldly import, than of that absence of car- 
nal interest with which he usually strove to draw near to his 
Creator in prayer. 

“ Captain Content Heathcote,” he said with grave seve- 
rity, after permitting a short pause to awaken reverence, 
“ there has one ridden through this valley on the Lord’s day, 
making thy habitation his halting-place. Hath the traveller 
warranty for this disrespect of the Sabbath, and canst thou 
find sufficient reason in his motive, for permitting the stran- 
ger within thy gates to neglect the solemn ordinance deli- 
vered on the mount?” 

“ He rideth on especial commission,” answered Content, 
who had respectfully arisen when thus addressed by name ; 
“ for matter of grave interest to the well-being of the Colony 
is contained in the subject of his errand.” 

“ There is naught more deeply connected with the well- 
being of man, whether resident in this Colony or in more 
lofty empires, than reverence to God’s declared will,” 
returned Meek, but half-appeased by the apology. “ It 
would have been expedient for one, who in common not 
only setteth so good an example himself, but who is also 
charged with the mantle of authority, to have looked with 
distrust into the pretences of a necessity that may be only 
seeming.” 


320 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 

“ The motive shall be declared to the people at a fitting 
moment ; but it hath seemed more wise to retain the sub- 
stance of the horseman’s errand until worship hath been 
offered, without the alloy of temporal concerns.” 

“ Therein hast thou acted discreetly ; for a divided mind 
giveth but little joy above. I hope there is equal reason 
why all of thy household are not with thee in the temple ?” 

Notwithstanding the usual self-command of Content, he 
did not revert to this subject without emotion. Casting a 
subdued glance at the empty seat where she whom -he so 
much loved was wont to worship at his side, he said, in a 
voice that evidently struggled to maintain its customary 
equanimity — 

“ There has been powerful interest awakened beneath my 
roof this day, and it may be that the duty of the Sabbath 
has been overlooked by minds so exercised. If we have 
therein sinned, I hope He that looketh kindly on the peni- 
tent, will forgive ! She of whom thou speakest, hath been 
shaken by the violence of griefs renewed ; though willing in- 
spirit, a feeble and sinking frame is not equal to support the 
fatigue of appearing here, even though it be the house of 
God.” . 

This extraordinary exercise of pastoral authority was unin- 
terrupted, even by the breathings of the congregation. Any 
incident of an unusual character had attraction for the 
inhabitants of a village so remote; but here was deep, 
domestic interest, connected with breach of usage and indeed 
of law, and all heightened by that secret influence that leads 
us to listen with singular satisfaction to those emotions in 
others which it is believed to be natural to wish to conceal. 
Not a syllable that fell from the lips of the divine, or of 
Content — not a deep tone of severity in the former, nor a 
struggling accent of the latter, escaped the dullest ear in 
that assembly. Notwithstanding the grave and regulated 
air that was common to all, it is needless to say there was 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 321 

pleasure in tlie little interruption of this scene, which, how- 
ever, was far from being extraordinary in a community 
where it was not only believed that spiritual authority might 
extend itself to the most familiar practices, ‘but where few 
domestic interests were deemed so exclusive, or individual 
feelings considered so sacred, that a very large proportion of 
the whole neighborhood might not claim a right to parti- 
cipate largely in both. The Reverend Mr. Wolfe was 
appeased by the explanation, and after allowing a sufficient 
time to elapse, in order that the minds of the congregation 
should recover their tone, he proceeded with the regular 
services of the mornipg. 

It is needless to recount the well known manner of the 
religious exercises of the Puritans. Enough of their forms 
and of their substance has been transmitted to us, to render 
both manner and doctrine familiar to most of our readers. 
"We shall therefore confine our duty to a relation of such 
portions of the ceremonies — if that which sedulously avoided 
every appearance of form, can thus be termed — as have an 
immediate connexion with the incidents. 

The divine had gone through the short opening prayer, 
had read the passage of holy writ, had given out the verses 
of the psalm, and had joined in the strange nasal melody 
with which his flock endeavored to render it doubly accepta- 
ble, and had ended his long and fervent wrestling of the 
spirit in a colloquial petition of some forty minutes’ dura- 
tion, in which direct allusion had been made not only to the 
subject of his recent examination, but to divers other familiar 
interests of his parishioners, and all without any departure 
from the usual zeal on his own part, or of the customary 
attention and grave decorum on that of .his people. But 
when, for the second time, he arose to read another song of 
worship and thanksgiving, a form was seen in the centre or 
principal aisle, that as well by its attire and aspect, as by the 
unusual and irreverent tardiness of its appearance, attracted 
14 ^ 


322 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

general observation. Interruptions of tbis tiatiire were 
unfrequent, and even the long practised and abstracted 
minister paused for an instant, ere he proceeded with the 
hymn, though there was a suspicion current among the more 
instructed of his parishioners, that the sonorous version was 
an effusion of his own muse. 

The intruder was Whittal Ring. The witless young man 
had strayed from the abode of his sister, and found his way 
into that general receptacle, where most of the village was 
congregated. During his former residence in the valley, 
there had been no temple, and the edifice, its interior 
arrangements, the faces of those it contained, and the busi- 
ness on which they had assembled, appeared alike strangers 
to him. It was only when the people lifted up their voices 
in the song of praise, that some glimmerings of his ancient 
recollections were discoverable in his inactive countenance. 
Then, indeed, he betrayed a portion of the delight which 
powerful sounds can quicken, even in beings of his unhappy 
mental constitution. As he was satisfied, however, to 
remain in a retired part of the aisle, listening with dull 
admiration, even the grave Ensign Dudley, whose eye had 
once or twice seemed ominous of displeasure, saw no neces- 
sity for interference. 

Meek had chosen for his text, on that day, a passage from 
the book of Judges; “And the children of Israel did evil 
in the sight of the Lord ; and the Lord delivered them into 
the hands of Midian seven years.” With this text the sub- 
tle-minded divine dealt powerfully, entering largely into the 
mysterious und allegorical allusions then so much in vogue. 
In whatever manner he viewed the subject, he found reasoa 
to liken the suffering, bereaved, and yet chosen dwellers of 
the Colonies, to the race of the Hebrews. If they were not 
set apart and marked from all others of the earth, in order 
that one mightier than man should spring from their loins, 
they were led into that distant wilderness, far from the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


323 


temptations of licentious luxury, or the worldly-mindeclness 
of those who built their structure of faith on the sands of 
temporal honors, to preserve the word in purity. As there 
appeared no reason on the part of the divine himself to dis- 
trust this construction of the words he had quoted, so it 
was evident that most of his listeners willingly lent their 
ears to so soothing an argument. 

In reference to Midian, the preacher was far less explicit. 
That the great father of evil was in some way intended by 
this allusion, could not be doubted ; but in what manner the 
chosen inhabitants of those regions were to feel his malign 
influence, was matter of more uncertainty. At times, the 
greedy ears of those who had long been wrought up into 
the impression that visible manifestations of the anger or 
of the love of Providence were daily presented to their eyes, 
were flattered with the stern joy of believing that the war 
which then raged around thei^i was intended to put their 
moral armor to the proof, and that out of the triumph of 
their victories were to flow honor and security to the church. 
Then came ambiguous qualifications, which left it question- 
able whether a return of the invisible powers, that had been 
known to be so busy in the Provinces, were not the judg- 
ment intended. It is not to be supposed that Meek himself 
had the clearest mental intelligence on a point of this sub- 
tlety, for there was something of misty hallucination in the 
manner in which he treated it, as will be seen by his closing 
words. 

“ To imagine that Azazel regardeth the long suffering and 
steadfastness of a chosen people with a pleasant eye,” he said, 
“is to believe that the marrow of righteousness can exist in 
the carrion of deceit. We. have already seen his envious 
spirit raging in many tragical instances. If required to 
raise a warning beacon to your eyes, by which the presence 
of this treacherous enemy might be known, I should say, in 
the words of one learned and ingenious in this craftiness 


324 THE WEPT OF WISH-TQN-WISH. 

that, ‘ when a person, having full reason, cloth knowingly 
and wittingly seek and obtain of the Devil, or any other 
God besides the true God Jehovah, an ability to do or know 
strange things, which he cannot by his own human abilities 
arrive unto,’ that then he may distrust his gifts and tremble 
for his soul. And, oh ! my brethren, how many of ye cling 
at this very moment to those tragical delusions, and worship 
the things of the world, instead of fattening on the famine 
of the desert, which is the sustenance of them that would 
live for ever ! Lift your eyes upwards, my brethren ” 

“ Eather turn them to the earth !” interrupted a deep, 
authoritative voice from the body- of the church ; “ there is 
present need of all your faculties to save life, and even to 
guard the tabernacle of the Lord !” 

Religious exercises composed the recreation of the dwel- 
lers in that distant settlement. When they met in compa- 
nies to lighten the load of life, prayer and songs of praise 
were among the usual indulgences of the entertainment. 
To them, a sermon was like a gay scenic exhibition in other 
and vainer communities, and none listened to the word wdth 
cold and inattentive ears. In literal obedience to the com- 
mand of the preacher, and sympathizing with his own action, 
every eye in the congregation had been turned towards the 
naked rafters of the roof, when the unknown tones of him 
who spoke broke the momentary delusion. It is needless to 
say that, by a common movement, they sought an explana- 
tion of this extraordinary appeal. The divine became mute, 
equally with wonder and with indignation. 

A first glance was enough to assure all present, that new 
and important interests were likely to be awakened. A 
stranger of grave aspect, and qf a calm but understanding 
eye, stood at the side of Whittal Ring. His attire was of 
the simple guise and homely materials of the country. Still 
he bore about his person enough of the equipments of one 
familiar with the wars of the eastern hemisphere, to strike 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISFI. 325 

the senses. His hand was armed with a shining broadsword, 
such as were then used by the cavaliers of England, and at 
his back was slung the short carabine of one who battled in 
the saddle. His mien was dignified and even commanding, 
and there was no second look necessary to show that he was 
an intruder of a character altogether different from the 
moping innocent at his side. 

“ Why is one of an unknown countenance come to dis- 
turb the worship of the temple ?” demanded Meek, when 
astonishment permitted utterance., “ Thrice hath this holy 
day been profaned by the foot of the stranger, and well may 
it be doubted whether we live not under an evil agency.” 

“ Arm, men of the Wish-Ton-Wish ! arm, and to your 
defences !” 

A cry arose without, that seemed to circle the whole val- 
ley ; and then a thousand whoops rolled out of the arches 
of the forest, and appeared to meet in one hostile din above 
the devoted hamlet. These were sounds that had been too 
often heard, or too often described, not to be generally 
understood. A scene of wild confusion followed. 

Each man, on entering the church, had deposited his arms 
at the door, and thither most of the stout borderers were 
now seen hastening, to resume their weapons. AVomen 
gathered their children to their sides, and the wails of horror 
and alarm were beginning to break through the restraints 
of habit. 

“ Peace !” exclaimed the pastor, seemingly excited to a 
degree above human emotion. “ Ere we go forth, let 
there be a voice raised to our heavenly Father. The 
asking shall be as a thousand men of war battling in our 
behalf!” 

The commotion ceased as suddenly as if a mandate had 
been issued from that place to which their petition was to 
be addressed. Even the stranger, who had regarded the 
preparations with a stern but anxious eye, bowed his head. 


326 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

and seemed to join in the prayer, with a devoted and con- 
fiding heart. 

“ Lord !” said Meek, stretching his meagre arms, with the 
palms of the hands open, liigh above the heads of his fiock, 
“ at thy bidding, we go forth ; with thy aid, the gates of 
hell shall not prevail against us ; with thy mercy, there is 
hope in heaven and on earth. It is for thy tabernacle that 
we shed blood ; it is for thy word that we contend. Battle 
in our behalf, King of Kings ! send thy heavenly legions to 
our succor, that the song of victory may be incense at thy 
altars, and a foul hearing to the ears of the enemy — Amen.” 

There was a depth in the voice of the speaker, a super- 
natural calmness in the tones, and so great a confidence in 
the support of the mighty ally implored, that the words 
went to every heart. It was impossible that Nature 
should not be powerful within, but a high and exciting 
enthusiasm began to lift the people far above its influence. 
Thus awakened by an appeal to feelings that had never 
slumbered, and stimulated by all the moving interests of 
life, the men of the valley poured out of the temple in 
defence of person and fire-side, and, as they believed, of 
religion and of God. 

There was pressing necessity not only for this zeal, but 
for all the physical energies cf the stoutest of their num- 
bers. The spectacle that met the view on issuing into the 
open air, "was one that might have appalled the hearts of 
warriors more practised, and have paralysed the efforts of 
men less susceptible to the impressions of religious excite- 
ment. 

Dark forms were leaping through the fields on the hill 
sides ; and all adown the slopes that conducted to the 
valley armed savages were seen pouring madly forward, on 
their path of destruction and vengeance. Behind them, the 
brand and the knife had been already used ; for the log 
tenement, the stacks, and the out-buildings of Reuben Ring, 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 827 

and of several others who dwelt in the skirts of the settle- 
ment, were sending forth clouds of murky smoke, in which 
forked and angry flames were already flashing fiercely 
But danger most pressed still nearer. A long line of fierce 
warriors was even in the meadows ; and in no direction could 
the eye be turned that it did not meet with the appalling 
proof that the village was completely surrounded by an over- 
whelming superiority of force. 

“ To the garrison ! ” shouted some of the foremost of those 
who first saw the nature and immineney of the danger, 
pressing forward themselves in the direction of the fortified 
house. “ To the garrison or we are lost ! ” 

“ Hold ! ” exclaimed that voice which was so strange to 
the ears of most of those who heard it, but which spoke in 
a manner that by its compass and firmness commanded 
obedience. “With this mad disorder we are truly lost. 
Let Captain Content Heathcote come to my councils.” 

Notwithstanding the tumult and confusion which had 
now in truth begun to rage fearfully around him, the quiet 
and self-restrained individual to -whom the legal and perhaps 
moral right to command belonged, had lost none of his 
customary composure. It was plain by the look of power- 
ful amazement with which he had at first regarded the 
stranger on his sudden interruption of the service, and by 
the glances of secret intelligence and of recognition they 
exchanged, that they had met before. But this was no time 
for greetings or explanations, nor was that a scene in which 
to waste the precious moments in useless contests about 
opinions. 

“ I am here,” said he who was thus called for ; “ ready to 
lead whither thy prudence and experience shall point the 
way.” 

“ Speak to thy people, and separate the combatants in 
three bodies of equal strength. One shall press forward to 
the meadows, and beat back the savage ere he encircle the 


328 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

palisadoed house ; the second shall proceed with the feeble 
and tender in their flight to its covers ; and with the third 
— but thou knowest that which I would do with the third. 
Hasten, or we lose all by tardiness.” 

It was perhaps fortunate that orders so necessary and so 
urgent were given to one little accustomed to superfluity of 
speech. Without offering either commendation or dissent, 
Content obeyed. Accustomed to his authority, and con- 
scious of the critical situation of all that was dear, the men 
of the village yielded an obedience more prompt and effective 
than it is usual to meet in soldiers who are not familiar with 
habits of discipline. The flghting men were quickly sepa- 
rated into three bodies, consisting of rather more than a score 
of combatants' in each. One, commanded by Eben Dudley, 
advanced at quick time towards the meadows in the rear 
of the fortress, that the whooping body of savages, who 
were already threatening to cut off the retreat of the women 
and children, should be checked ; while another departed in 
a nearly opposite direction, taking the street of the hamlet, 
for the purpose of meeting those who advanced by the 
southern entrance of the valley. The third and last of these 
small but devoted bodies remained stationary, in attendance 
for more definite orders. 

At the moment when the first of these little divisions of 
force was ready to move, the divine appeared in its front, 
with an air in which spiritual reliance on the purposes of 
Providence, and some show of temporal determination, were 
singularly united. In one hand he bore a Bible, which he 
raised on high as the sacred standard of his followers, and 
in the other he brandished a short broadsword, in a manner 
that proved there might be danger in encountering its 
blade. The volume w^as open, and at brief intervals the 
divine read in a high and excited voice such passages as ac- 
cidentally met his eye, the leaves blowing about in a manner 
to produce a rather remarkable admixture of doctrine and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


329 


sentiment. But to these trifling moral incongruities, both 
the pastor and his parishioners were alike indifferent ; their 
subtle mental exercises having given birth to a tendency of 
aptly reconciling all seeming discrepancies, as well as of 
accommodating the most abstruse doctrines to the more 
familiar interests of life. 

“ Israel and the Philistines had put their battle in array, 
army against army,” commenced Meek, as the troop he led 
began its advance. Then reading at short intervals, he con- 
tinued, “ Behold, I will do a thing in Israel, at which both 
the ears of every one that heareth it shall tingle.” — “ Oh 
house of Aaron, trust in the Lord ; he is thy help and thy 
shield.” — “ Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man ; preserve 
me from the violent man.” — “ Let burning coals fall upon 
them ; let them be cast into the fire ; into deep pits, that 
they rise not again.” — “ Let the wicked fall into their own • 
nets, whilst that I, withal, escape.”---“ Therefore doth my 
father love me, because I lay down my life, that L may take 
it again.” — “ He that hateth me, hateth my father also.” — 

“ Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” — 

“ They have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an 
eye, and a tooth for a tooth.” — “For Joshua drew not his 
hand back, wherewith he stretched out the spear, until he 

had utterly destroyed all the inhabitants of Ai ” Thus 

far the words of Meek were intelligible to those , who re- 
mained, but distance soon confounded the syllables. Then 
naught was audible but the yells of the enemy, the tramp 
of the men who pressed in the rear of the priest, with a 
display of military pomp as formidable as their limited 
means would allow, and those clear high tones, which 
sounded in the ears and quickened the blood at the hearts 
of his followers as though they had been trumpet-blasts. 
In a few more minutes the little band was scattered behind 
the covers of the fields, and the rattling of fire-arms succeed- 
ed to the quaint and characteristic manner of their march. 


330 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

While this movement was made in front, the party 
ordered to cover the village was not idle. Commanded by 
a sturdy yeoman, who filled the office of lieutenant, it 
advanced with less of religious display, but with equal 
activity, in the direction of the south ; and the sounds of 
contention were quickly heard, proclaiming both the 
urgency of the measure and the warmth of the confiict. 

In the meantime equal decision, though tempered by 
some circumstances of deep personal interest, was displayed 
by those who had been left in front of the church. As 
soon as the band of Meek had got to such a distance as to 
promise security to those who followed, the stranger com- 
manded the children to be led towards the fortified house. 
This duty was performed by the trembling mothers, who 
had been persuaded with difficulty to defer it until cooler 
heads should pronounce that the proper moment had come. 
A few of the women dispersed among the dwellings in 
quest of the infirm, while all the boys of proper age were 
actively employed iij transporting indispensable articles 
from the village within the palisadoes. As these several 
movements were simultaneous, but a very few minutes 
elapsed between the time when the orders were issued and 
the moment when they were accomplished. 

“ I had intended that thou should’st have had the charge 
in the meadows,” said the stranger to Content, when naught 
remained to be performed, but that which had been reserved 
for the last of the three little bands of fighting men. “ But 
as the work proceedeth bravely in that quarter, we will 
move in company. Why doth this maiden tarry ?” 

“ Truly I know not, unless it may be of fear. There is 
an opening for thy passage into the fort, Martha, with others 
of thy sex.” 

“ I will follow the fighters that are about to march to the 
rescue of them that remain in our habitation,” said the girl, 
in a low but steady voice. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 331 

“ And how know’st thoii that such is the service intended 
for those here arrayed ?” demanded the stranger, with a 
little show of displeasure that his military purposes should 
have been anticipated. 

“ I see it in the countenances of them that tarry,” re- 
turned the other, gazing furtively towards Mark, who, 
posted in the little line, could with difficulty brook a delay 
which threatened his father’s house, and those whom it 
held, with so much jeopardy. 

“ Forward !” cried the stranger. “ Here is no leisure for 
dispute. Let the maiden take wisdom and hasten to the 
fort. Follow, men, stout of heart, or we come too late to 
the succor !” 

Martha waited until the party had advanced a few paces, 
and then, instead of obeying the repeated mandate to con- 
sult her personal safety, she took the direction of the armed 
band. 

“ I fear me that ’twill exceed our strength,” observed the 
stranger, who marched in front at thq side of Content, “ to 
make good the dwelling, at so great distance from’ further 
aid.” 

“ And yet the visitation will be heavy that shall drive us 
for a second time to the fields for a resting-place. In what 
manner didst get warning of this inroad?” 

“ The savages believed themselves concealed in the cun- 
ning place, where thou know’st that my eye had opportu- 
nity to overlook their artifices. There is a Providence in 
our least seeming calculations : an imprisonment of weary 
years hath its reward in this warning !” 

Content appeared to acquiesce, but the situation of affairs 
prevented the discourse from becoming more minute. 

As they approached the dwelling of the Heathcotes, 
better opportunity of observing the condition of things in 
and around the house was of course obtained. The posi- 
tion of the building would have rendered any attempt on 


332 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

the part of those in it to gain the fort, ere the arrival of 
assistance, desperately hazardous, since the meadows that 
lay between them were already alive with the ferocious 
warriors of the enemy. But it was evident that the Puri- 
tan, whose infirmities kept him within doors, entertained no 
such design ; for it was shortly apparent that those within 
were closing and barring the windows of the habitation, 
and that other provisions for defence were in the course of 
active preparation. The feelings of Content, who knew 
that the house contained only his wife and father, with one 
female assistant, were excited to agony, as the party he 
commanded drew near on one side, at a distance about 
equal to that of a band of the enemy, who were advancing 
diagonally from the woods on the other. He saw the 
efforts of those so dear to him, as they had recourse to the 
means of security provided to repel the very danger which 
now threatened ; and to his eyes it appeared that the trem- 
bling hands of Ruth had lost their power, when haste 
and confusion more than once defeated the object of her 
exertions. 

“We must break and charge, or the savage will be too 
speedy !” he said, in tones that grew thick from breathing 
quicker than was wont, for one of his calm temperament. 
“ See ! they enter the orchard ! In another minute they 
will be masters of the dwelling !” 

But his companion marched with a firmer step, and 
looked with a cooler eye. There was in his gaze the 
understanding of a man practised in scenes of sudden dan- 
ger, and in his mien the authority of one accustomed to 
command. 

“ Fear not,” he answered ; “ the art of old Mark Heath- 
cote hath departed from him, or he still knoweth how to 
make good his citadel against a first onset. If we quit our 
order the superiority of concert will be lost, and being few 
in numbers defeat will be certain ; but with this front, and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


333 


a fitting steadiness, our mareh may not be repulsed. To 
thee, Captain Content Heatlicote, it need not be told, that 
he who now counsels hath seen the strife of savages ere this 
hour.” 

“ I know it well — but dost not see my Ruth laboring at 
the ill-fated shutter of the chamber ? The woman will be 
slain in her heedlessness — for, hark ! there beginneth the 
volley of the enemy !” 

“ No, ’tis he who led my troop in a far different warfare !” 
exclaimed the stranger, whose form grew more erect, and 
whose thoughtful and deeply-furrowed features assumed 
something like the stern pleasure which kindles in the 
soldier as the sounds of contention increase. “ ’Tis old 
Mark Heathcote, true to his breeding and his name ! he 
hath let off the culverin upon the knaves ! behold, they are 
already disposed to abandon one who speaketh so boldly, 
and are breaking through the fences to the left, that we 
may taste something of their quality. Now, bold English- 
men, strong of hand and stout of heart, you have training 
in your duty, and you shall not be wanting in example. 
You have wives and children at hand, looking at your 
deeds ; and there is One above that taketh note of the man- 
ner in which you serve in this cause. Here is an opening 
for your skill ; scourge the cannibals with the hand of 
death ! On, on to the onset, and to victory !” 




THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER XXm. 

“ JSeci. Is this Achilles ? 

Achil. I am Achilles. 

JBect. Stand fair, I pray thee : let me look on thee.” 

Tboilus and CsESSrDA. 

It may now bo necessary to take a rapid glance at the 
situation of the Avhole combat, which had begun to thicken 
in different parts of the valley. The party led by Dudley 
and exhorted by Meek, had broken its order on reaching the 
meadows behind the fort, and seeking the covers of the 
stumps and fences, it had thrown in its fire with good effect 
on the irregular band that had pressed into the fields. This 
decision quickly caused a change in the manner of the 
advance. The Indians took to covers in their turn, and the 
struggle assumed that desultory but dangerous character, in 
which the steadiness and resources of the individual are put 
to the severest trial. Success appeared to vacillate ; the 
white men at one time widening the distance between them 
and their friends in the dwelling, and, at another, falling . 
back as if disposed to seek the shelter of the palisadoes. 
Although numbers were greatly in favor of the Indians, 
weapons and skill supported the cause of their adversaries. 
It was the evident wish of the former to break in upon the 
little band that opposed their progress to the village, in and 
about which they saw that scene of hurried exertion which 
has already been described — a spectacle but little likely to 
cool the furious ardor of an Indian onset. But the wary 
manner in which Dudley conducted his battle, rendered this 
an experiment of exceeding hazard. 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 335 


However heavy of intellect the Ensign might appear on 
other occasions, the present was one every way adapted to 
draw out his best and most manly qualities. Of large and 
powerful stature, he felt in moments of strife a degree of 
confidence in himself, that was commensurate with the 
amount of physical force he wielded. To this hardy assur- 
ance was to be added no trifiing portion of the sort of 
enthusiasm that can he awakened in the most sluggish 
bosoms, and which, like the anger of an even-tempered man, 
is only the more formidable from the usually quiet habits of 
the individual. Nor was this the first, by many, of Ensign 
Dudley’s warlike dee^s. Besides the desperate affair already 
related in these pages, he had been engaged in divers hostile 
expeditions against the aborigines, and on all occasions had 
he shown a cool head and a resolute mind. 

There was pressing necessity for both these essential 
qualities in the situation in which the Ensign now found 
himself. By properly extending his little force, and yet 
keeping it at the same time perfectly within supporting dis- 
tance, by emulating the caution of his foes in consulting the 
covers, and by reserving a portion of his fire throughout the 
broken and yet well ordered line, the savages were finally 
beaten back, fiom stump to stump, from hillock to hillock, 
and fence to fence, until they had fairly entered the margin 
of the forest. Further, the experienced eye of the borderer 
saw he could not follow. Many of his men were bleeding, 
and growing weaker as the wounds still flowed. The pro- 
tection of the trees gave the enemy too great an advantage 
for their position to he forced, and destruction would have 
been the inevitable consequence of the close struggle which 
must have followed a charge. In this stage of the combat 
Dudley began to cast anxious and inquiring looks behind 
him. He saw that support wae not to be expected, and he 
also saw with regret that many of the women and children 
were still busy transporting necessaries from the village into 


336 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the fort. Falling back to a better line of covers, and to a 
distance that materially lessened the danger of the arrows, 
the weapons used by quite two thirds of his enemies, he 
awaited in sullen silence the proper moment to effect a 
further retreat. 

It was while the party of Dudley stood thus at bay, that 
a fierce yell rang in the arches of the forest. It was an ex- 
clamation of pleasure, uttered in the wild manner of those 
people ; as if the tenants of the woods were animated by 
some sudden and general impulse of joy. The crouching 
yeomen regarded each other in uneasiness, hut seeing no 
sign of wavering in the steady mien of their leader, each 
man kept close, aw^aiting some further exhibition of the 
devices of their foes. Ere another minute had passed, two 
w'arriors appeared at the margin of the wood, wEere they 
stood apparently in contemplation of the different scenes 
that w^ere acting in various parts of the valley. More than 
one musket was levelled wdth the intent to injure them, but 
a sign from Dudley prevented attempts that would most 
probably have been frustrated by the never-slumbering vigi- 
lance of a North American Indian. 

There w^as, however, something in the air and port of 
these two individuals, that had its share in producing the 
forbearance of Dudley. They were evidently both chiefs, 
and of far more than usual estimation. As was common 
with the military leaders of the Indians, they were men also 
of large and commanding stature. Viewed at the dis- 
tance from which they w^ere seen, one seemed a warrior who 
had reached the meridian of his days, while the other had 
the lighter step and more fiexible movement of a much 
briefer existence. Both were well armed, and, as was usual 
with the people of their origin on the w^ar-path, they were 
clad only in the customary scanty covering of waist-cloths 
and leggings. The former, how'ever, were of scarlet, and 
the latter were rich in the fringes and bright colors of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 337 

Indian ornaments. The elder of the two wore a gay belt 
of wampum around his head in the form of a turban ; but 
the younger appeared with a shaven crown, on which no- 
thing but the customary chivalrous scalp-lock was visible. 

The consultation, like most of the incidents that have 
been just related, occupied but a very few minutes. The 
eldest of the chiefs issued some orders. The mind of Dudley 
was anxiously endeavoring to anticipate their nature, when 
the two disappeared together. The Ensign would now have 
been left entirely to vague conjectures, had not the rapid 
execution of the mandates that had been issued to the 
youngest of the Indians, soon left him in no doubt of their 
intentions. Another loud and general shout drew his at- 
tention towards the right ; and when he had endeavored to 
strengthen his position by calling three or four of the best 
marksmen to that end of his little line, the youngest of the 
chiefe was seen bounding across the meadow, leading a train 
of whooping followers to the covers that commanded its 
opposite extremity. In short, the position of Dudley was 
completely turned ; and the stumps and angles of the fences 
which secreted his men, were likely to become of no further 
use. The emergency demanded decision. Collecting his 
yeomen ere the enemy had time to profit by his advantage, 
the Ensign ordered a rapid retreat towards the fort. In 
this movement he was favored by the formation of the 
ground, a circumstance that had been well considered on the 
advance ; and in a very few minutes the party found itself 
safely posted under the protection of a scattering fire irom 
the palisadoes, which immediately checked the pursuit of 
the whooping and exulting foe. The wounded men, after a 
stern or rather sullen halt, that was intended to exhibit 
the unconquerable determination of the whites, withdrew 
into the works for succor, leaving the command" of Dudley 
reduced by nearly one-half of its numbers. With this 
diminished force, however, he promptly turned his attention 

15 


338 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

towards the assistance of those who combated at the op- 
posite extremity of the village. 

Allusion has already been made to the manner in w^hich 
the houses of a new settlement were clustered near each 
other, at the commencement of the colonial establishments. 
In addition to the more obvious and sufficient motive, which 
has given rise to the same inconvenient and unpicturesque 
manner of building over nine tenths of the continent of 
Europe, there had been found a religious inducement for 
conforming to the custom. One of the enactments of the 
Puritans said, that “ no man shall set his dwelling-house 
above the distance of half-a-mile, or a mile at farthest, from 
the meeting of the congregation where the church doth 
usually assemble for the worship of God.” “ The support 
of the worship of God, in church fellowship,” was the reason 
alleged for this arbitrary provision of the law ; but it is quite 
probable that support against danger of a more temporal 
character was another motive. There were those within the 
fort who believed the smoking piles that were to be seen, 
here and there, in the clearings on the hills, owed their 
destruction to a disregard of that protection which was 
thought to be yielded to those who leaned with the greatest 
confidence, even in the forms of earthly transactions, on the 
sustaining power of an all-seeing and all-directing Provi- 
dence. Among this number was Reuben Ring, who submit- 
ted to the loss of his habitation, as to a merited punishment * 
for the light-mindedness that had tempted him to erect a 
dwelling at the utmost limits of the prescribed distance. 

As the party of Dudley retreated, that sturdy yeoman 
stood at a window of the chamber in 'which his prolific 
partner with her recent gift were safely lodged, for in that 
moment of confusion the husband was compelled to dis- 
charge the double duty of sentinel and nurse. He had just 
fired his piece, and he had reason to think with success* on 
the enemies that pressed too closely on the retiring party, 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 339 


and as he reloaded the gun, he turned a melancholy eye on 
the pile of smoking embers, that now lay where his humble 
but comfortable habitation had so lately stood. 

“ I fear me. Abundance,” he said, shaking his head with 
a sigh, “ that there was error in the measurement between 
the meeting and the clearing. Some misgivings of the 
lawfulness of stretching the chain across the hollows, came 
over me at the time ; but the pleasant knoll, where the 
dwelling stood, was so healthful and commodious, that, if it 
were a sin, I hope it is one that is forgiven ! There doth 
not seem so much as the meanest of its logs, that is not 
now melted into white ashes by the fire ! ” 

“Raise me, husband,” returned the wife, in the weak 
voice natural to her feeble situation ; “ raise me with thine 
arm, that I may look upon the place where my babes first 
saw the light.” 

Her request was granted, and, for a minute, the woman 
gazed in mute grief at the destruction of her comfortable 
home. Then, as a fresh yell from the foe rose on the air 
without, she trembled, and turned with a mother’s care 
towards the unconscious beings that slumbered at her side. 

“ Thy brother hath been driven by the heathen to the 
foot of the palisadoes,” observed the other, after regarding 
his companion with manly kindness for a moment, “ and he 
hath lessened his force by many that are wounded.” 

A short but eloquent pause succeeded. The woman 
turned her tearful eyes upwards, and stretching out a blood- 
less hand, she answered — 

“I know what thou would’st do — it is not meet that 
Sergeant Ring should be a woman-tender, when the Indian 
enemy is in his neighbor’s fields ! Go to thy duty, and that 
which is to be done, do manfully ! and yet would I have 
thee remember how many there are who lean upon thy life 
for a father’s care.” 

The yeoman first cast a cautious look around him, for this 


340 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the decent and stern usages of the Puritans exacted, and per- 
ceiving that the girl who had occasionally entered to tend 
the sick was not present, he stooped, and impressing his 
lips on the cheek of his wife, he threw a yearning look at his 
offspring, shouldered his musket, and descended to the court. 

When Reuben Ring joined the party of Dudley, the latter 
had just issued an order to march to the support of those 
who still stoutly defended the southern entry of the village. 
The labor of securing necessaries was not yet ended, and it 
v/as on every account an object of the last importance to 
make good the hamlet against the enemy. The task, how- 
ever, was not as diflBcult as the force of the Indians might 
at first have give reason to believe. The conflict, by this 
time, had extended to the party which was headed by Con- 
tent, and, in consequence, the Indians were compelled to 
contend with a divided force. Tlie buildings themselves, 
with the fences and out-houses, were so many breastworks, 
and it was plain that the assailants acted with a caution and 
concert, that betrayed the direction of some mind more 
highly gifted than those which ordinarily fall to the lot of 
uncivilized men. 

The task of Dudley was not so difiicult as before, since 
the enemy ceased to press upon his march, preferring to 
watch the movements of those who held the fortified house, 
of whose numbers they were ignorant, and of whose attacks 
they were evidently jealous. As soon as the reinforceniient 
reached the Lieutenant who defended the village, he com- 
manded the charge, and his men advanced with shouts and 
clamor, some singing spiritual songs, others lifting up their 
voices in prayer, while a few availed themselves of the down- 
right and perhaps equally effective means of raising sounds 
as fearful as possible. The whole being backed by spirited 
and well directed discharges of musketry, the effort was suc- 
cessful. In a few minutes the enemy fled, leaving that side 
of the valley momentarily free from danger. 


THE WEPT OF WISH- TON-WISH. 341 


Pursuit would have been folly. After posting a few look- 
outs in secret and safe positions among the houses, the 
whole party returned, with an intention of cutting off the 
enemy who still held the meadows near the garrison. In 
this design, however, their intentions were frustrated. The 
instant they were pressed, the Indians gave way, evidently 
for the purpose of gaining the protection of the woods ; and 
when the whites returned to their works, they were followed 
in a manner to show that they could make no further move- 
ment without the hazard of a serious assault. In this con- 
dition, the men in and about the fort were compelled to be 
inefficient spectators of the scene that was taking place 
around the “ Heathcote-house,’’ as the dwelling of old Mark 
was commonly called. 

The fortified building had been erected for the protection ^ 
of the village and its inhabitants, an object that its position 
rendered feasible ; but it could offer no aid to those who dwelt 
without the range of the musketry. The only piece of 
artillery belonging to the settlement, was the culverin which 
had been discharged by the Puritan, and which served for 
the moment to check the advance of his enemies. But the 
exclamations of the stranger, and the appeal to his men, 
with which the last chapter closed, sufficiently proclaimed 
that the attack was diverted from the house, and that work 
of a bloody character now offered itself to those he and his 
companion led. 

The ground around the dwelling of the Heathcotes . 
admitted of closer and more deadly conflict than that on 
which the other portions of the combat had occurred. 
Time had given size to the orchards, and wealth had multi- 
plied and rendered more secure the inclosures and ^out-build- • 
ings. It was in one of the former that the hostile parties 
met, and came to that issue which the warlike stranger had 
foreseen. 

Content, like Dudley, caused his men to separate, and 


342 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S II . 

they threw in their fire with the same guarded reservation 
that had been practised by the other party. Success again 
attended the efforts of discipline; the whites gradually 
beating back their enemies, until there was a probability of 
forcing them entirely into the open ground in their rear, a 
success that would have been tantamount to a victory. 
But at this flattering moment, yells were heardl behind the 
leaping and whooping band that was still seen gliding 
through the openings of the smoke, resembling so many 
dark and malignant spectres acting their evil rites. Then, 
as a chief with a turban ed head, terrific voice, and com- 
manding stature, appeared in their front, the whole of the 
wavering line received an onward impulse. The yells re- 
doubled ; another warrior was seen brandishing a tomahawk 
on one flank, and the whole of the deep phalanx came rush- 
ing in upon the whites, threatening to sweep them away, as 
the outbreaking torrent carries desolation in its course. 

“ Men, to your square !” shouted the stranger, disregarding 
cover and life together, in such a pressing emergency ; “ to 
your square, Christians, and be firm.” 

Tlie command was repeated by Content, and echoed from 
mouth to mouth. But before those on the flanks could 
reach the centre, the shock had come. All order being lost, 
the combat was hand to hand, one party fighting fiercely for 
victory, and the other knowing that they stood at the awful 
peril of their lives. After the first discharge of the musket 
and the twang of the bow, the struggle was maintained with 
knife and, axe ; the thrust of the former, or the descent of 
the keen and glittering tomahawk, being answered by 
sweeping and crushing blows of the musket’s butt, or by 
* throttling grasps of hands that were clenched in the death- 
gripe. Men fell on each other in piles, and when the con- 
queror rose to shake off the bodies of those who gasped at 
his feet, his frowming eye rested alike on friend and enemy. 
The orchard rang with yells of the Indians, but the Colo- 


THE WEPT OF WI8H-T0N-WISH. 343 


nists fouglit in mute despair. Sullen resolution only gave 
way with life ; and it happened more than once, that fear- 
ful day, that the usual reeking token of an Indian triumph 
was swung before the stern and still conscious eyes of the 
mangled victim from whose head it had been torn. 

In this frightful scene of slaughter and ferocity, the prin- 
cipal personages of our legend were not idle. By a tacit but 
intelligent understanding, the stranger with Content and his 
son placed themselves back to back, and struggled manfully 
against their luckless fortune. The former showed himself 
no soldier of parade ; for, knowing the uselessness of orders 
when each one fought for life, he dealt out powerful blows 
in silence. His example was nobly emulated by Content ; 
and young Mark moved limb and muscle with the vigorous 
activity of his age. A first onset of the enemy was repelled, 
and for a moment there Avas a faint prospect of escape. At 
the suggestion of the stranger, the three moved in their 
order towards the dAvelling, with the intention of trusting to 
their personal activity when released from the throng. But 
at this luckless instant, when hope Avas beginning to assume 
the air of probability, a chief came stalking through the 
horrible melee, seeking on each side some victim of his 
uplifted axe. • A crowd of the inferior herd pressed at his 
heels, and a first glance told the assailed that the decisive 
moment had come. 

At the sight of so many of their hated enemies still liAing 
and capable of suffering, a common and triumphant shout 
burst from the lips of the Indians. Their leader, like one 
superior to the more vulgar emotions of his folloAvers, alone 
approached in silence. As the band opened and divided to 
encircle the victims, chance brought him face to face Avith 
Mark. Like his foe the Indian warrior was still in the fresh- 
ness and vigor of young manhood. In stature, years, and 
agility, the antagonists seemed equal ; and, as the followers 
of the chief threw themselves on the stranger and Content, 


344 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

like men who knew their leader needed no aid, there was 
every appearance of a fierce and doubtful struggle. But, 
while neither of the combatants showed any desire to avoid 
the contest, neither was in haste to give the commencing 
blow. A painter, or rather sculptor, would have seized the 
attitudes of these young combatants for a rich exhibition of 
the power of his art. 

Mark, like most of his friends, had cast aside all super- 
fluous vestments ere he approached the scene of strife. The 
upper part of his body was naked to the shirt, and even this 
had been torn asunder by the rude encounters through which 
he had already passed. The w^hole of his full and heaving 
chest was bare, exposing the white skin and blue veins of 
one whose fathers had come from towards the rising sun. 
His swelling form rested on a leg that seemed planted in 
defiance, while the other was thrown in front like a lever to 
control the expected movements. His arms were extended 
to the rear, the hands grasping the barrel of a musket which 
threatened death to all who should come within its sweep. 
The head, covered with the short, curling, yellow hair of his 
Saxon lineage, was a little advanced above the left shoulder, 
and seemed placed in a manner to preserve the equipoise of 
the whole frame. The brow was flushed, the lips compressed 
and resolute, the veins of the neck and temples sw^ollen 
nearly to bursting, and the eyes contracted, but of a gaze 
that bespoke equally the feelings of desperate determination 
and of entranced surprise. 

On the other hand, the Indian warrior was a man still 
more likely to be remarked. The habits of his people had 
brought him, as usual, into the field with naked limbs and 
nearly uncovered body. The position of his frame was that 
of one prepared to leap ; and it would have been a compari- 
son tolerated by the license of poetry to have likened his 
straight and agile form to the semblance of a crouching 
panther. The projecting leg sustained the body, bending 


THE W E P T OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 345 


under its load more with the free play of muscle and sinew 
than from any weight, while the slightly stooping head was 
a little advanced beyond the perpendicular., One hand was 
clenched on the helve of an axe that lay in a line with the 
right thigh, while the other was placed with a firm gripe on 
the buck-horn handle of a knife that was still sheathed at 
his girdle. The expression of the face was earnest, severe, 
and perhaps a little fierce, and yet the whole was tempered 
by the immovable and dignified calm of a chief of high 
qualities. The eye, however, was gazing and riveted ; and, 
like that of the youth whose life he threatened, it appeared 
singularly contracted with wonder. 

The momentary pauSe that succeeded the naovement by 
which the two antagonists threw themselves into these fine 
attitudes was full of meaning. Neither spoke, neither per- 
mitted play of muscle, neither even seemed to breathe. The 
delay was not like that of preparation, for each stood ready 
for his deadly efibrt, nor would it have been possible to trace 
in the compressed energy of the countenance of Mark, or in 
the lofty and more practised bearing of the front and eye of 
the Indian, anything like wavering of purpose. An emotion 
foreign to the scene appeared to possess them both, each 
active frame unconsciously accommodating itself to the bloody 
business of the hour, while the inscrutable agency of the 
mind held them for a brief interval in check. 

A yell of death from the mouth of a savage who was 
beaten to the very feet of his chief by a blow of the stranger, 
and an encouraging shout from the lips of the latter, broke 
the short trance. The knees of the chief bent still lower, 
. the head of th^ tomahawk was a little raised, the blade of 
the knife was seen glittering from its sheath, and the butt 
of Mark’s musket had receded to the utmost tension of his 
sinews, when a shriek and a yell, different from any before 
heard that day, sounded near. At the same moment, the 
blows of both the combatants were suspended, though by 
15 '^ 


346 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

the agency of very different degrees of force. Mark felt the 
arms of one cast around his limbs with a power sufficient to 
embarrass, though not to subdue him, while the well known 
voice of Whittal King sounded in his ears — 

. “ Murder the lying and hungry Pale-faces ! They leave 
us no food but air — no drink but water !” 

On the other hand, when the chief turned in anger to 
strike the daring one who presumed to arrest his arm, he 
saw at his feet the kneeling figure, the uplifted hands, and 
agonized features of Martha. Averting the blow that a 
follower already aimed at the life of the suppliant, he spoke 
rapidly in his own language, and pointed to the struggling 
Mark. The nearest Indians cast themselves on the already 
half-captured youth. A whoop brought a hundred more to 
the spot, and then a calm as sudden, and almost as fearful, 
as the previous tumult prevailed in the orchard. It was 
succeeded by the long-drawn, frightful, and yet meaning 
yell by which the American warrior proclaims his victory. 

With the end of the tumult in the orchard, the sounds of 
strife ceased in all the valley. Though conscious of the 
success of their enemies, the men in the fort saw the certainty 
of destruction, not only to themselves, but to those feeble 
ones whom they should be compelled to leave without a 
sufficient defence, were they to attempt a sortie to that dis- 
tance from their works. They were, therefore, compelled 
to remain passive and grave spectators of an evil they had 
not The means to avert. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 341 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


“■Were such things here, as we do speak about? 

Or have we eaten of the insane root 
That takes the reason prisoner ?” 

Macbeth. 


An hour later presented a different scene. Bands of the 
enemy, that in civilized warfare would he called parties of 
observation, lingered in the skirts of the forest nearest to the 
village; and the settlers still stood to their arms, posted 
among the buildings, or maintaining their array at the foot 
of the palisadoes. Though the toil of securing the valua- 
bles continued, it was evident that, as the first terrors of 
alarm had disappeared, the owners of the hamlet began to 
regain some assurance in their ability to make it good 
against their enemies. Even the women were now seen 
moving through its grassy street with greater seeming con- 
fidence, and there was a regularity in the air of the armed 
men, which denoted a determination that was calculated to 
impose on their wild and undisciplined assailants. 

But the dwelling, the out-buildings, and all the imple- 
ments of domestic comfort, which had so lately contributed 
to the ease of the Heathcotes, were completely in possession 
of the Indians. The open shutters and doors, the scattered 
and half-destroyed furniture, the air of devastation and waste, 
and the general abandonment of all interest in the protec- 
tion of property, proclaimed the licentious disorder of a suc- 
cessful assault. Still the work of destruction and plunder 
did not go on. Although here and there might be seen 
some warrior, decorated, according to the humors of his 


848 THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISfl, 

savage taste, with the personal elFects of the former inmates 
of the building, every hand had been checked, and the fu- 
rious tempers of the conquerors had been quieted, seemingly 
by the agency of some unseen and extraordinary authority. 
The men, wh so lately had been moved by the fiercest pas- 
sions of our nature, were suddenly restrained, if not ap- 
peased; and, instead of that exulting indulgence of ven- 
geance which commonly accompanies an Indian triumph, 
the warriors stalked about the buildings and through the 
adjacent grounds, in a silence which, though gloomy and 
sullen, was marked by their characteristic submission to 
events. 

The principal leaders of the inroad, and all the surviving 
sufiferers by the defeat, were assembled in the piazza of the 
dwelling. Ruth, pale, sorrowing, and mourning for others 
rather than for herself, stood a little apart, attended by 
Martha and the young assistant whose luckless fortune it 
was to be found at her post on this eventful day. Content, 
the stranger, and Mark, were near, subdued and bound, the 
sole survivors of all that band they had so recently led into 
the conflict. The grey hairs and bodily infirmities of the 
Puritan spared him the same degradation. The only other 
being present, of European origin, was Whittal Ring. The 
innocent stalked slowly among the prisoners, sometimes per- 
mitting ancient recollections and sympathies to come over 
his dull intellect, but oftener taunting the unfortunate with 
the injustice of their race, and with the wrongs of his adopt- 
ed people. 

The chiefs of the successful party stood in the centre, ap- 
parently engaged in some grave deliberation. As they were 
few in number, it was evident that the council only' included 
men of the highest importance. Chiefs of inferior rank, but. 
of great names in the limited renown of those simple tribes, 
conversed in knots among the trees, or paced the court at a 
respectful distance from the consultation of their superiors. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 349 

The least practised eye could not mistake the person of 
him on whom the greatest weight of authority had fallen. 
The turbaned warrior, already introduced in these pages, 
occupied the centre of the group, in the calm and dignified 
attitude of an Indian who hearkens to or who utters advuce. 
His musket was borne by one who stood in waiting, while 
the knife and axe were returned to his girdle. He had 
thrown a light blanket, or it might be better termed a robe 
of scarlet cloth, over his left shoulder, whence it gracefully 
fell in folds, leaving the whole of the right arm free, and 
most of his ample chest exposed to view. From beneath 
this mantle, blood f^ll slowly in drops,, dyeing the floor on 
which he stood. The countenance of this warrior was 
grave, though there was a quickness in the movements of 
an ever-restless eye, that denoted great mental activity, no 
less than the disquiet of suspicion. One skilled in physiog- 
nomy might too have thought, that a shade of. suppressed 
discontent was struggling with the self-command of habits 
that had become part of the nature of the individual. 

The two companions nearest this chief were, like himself, 
men past the middle age, and of mien and expression that 
were similar, though less strikingly marked ; neither show- 
ing those signs of displeasure, which occasionally shot from 
organs that, in spite of a mind so trained and so despotic, 
could not always restrain their glittering brightness. One 
was speaking, and by his glance it was evident that the sub- 
ject of his discourse was the- fourth and last of their number, 
who had placed himself in a position that prevented his 
being an auditor of what was said. 

In the person of the latter chief, the reader will recognise 
the youth who had confronted Mark, and whose rapid move- 
ment on the flank of Dudley had first driven the Colonists 
from the meadows. The eloquent expression of limb, the 
tension of sinews, and the compression of muscles, as last 
exhibited, were now gone. They had given place to the 


350 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

peculiar repose that distinguishes the Indian warrior in his 
moments of inaction, quite as much as it marks the man- 
ner of one schooled in the forms of more polished life. With 
one hand he leaned lightly on a musket, while from the 
wrist of the other, which hung loose at his side, depended, 
by a thong of deer’s sinew, a tomahawk from which fell 
drops of human blood. His person bore no other covering 
than that in which he had fought,. and, unlike his more aged 
companion in authority, his body had escaped without a 
wound. 

In form and in features, this young warrior might be 
deemed a model of the excellence of Indian manhood. The 
limbs were full, round, faultlessly straight, and distinguished 
by an appearance of extreme activity, without being equally 
remarkable for muscle. In the latter particular, in the up- 
right attitude, and in the distant and noble gaze which so 
often elevated his front, there was a close afhnity to the 
statue of the Pythian Apollo ; while in the full though 
slightly effeminate chest, there was an equal resemblance to 
that look of animal indulgence which is to be traced in the 
severe representations of Bacchus. This resemblance, how- 
ever, to a Deity that is little apt to awaken lofty sentiments 
in the spectator, was not displeasing, since it in some mea- 
sure relieved the sternness of an eye that penetrated like the 
glance of the eagle, and that might otherwise have left an 
impression of too little sympathy with the familiar weak- 
nesses of humanity. Still the young chief was less to be re- 
marked by this peculiar fulness of chest, the fruit of inter- 
vals of inaction, constant indulgence of the first wants of 
nature, and a total exemption from toil, than most of those, 
who either counselled in secret near, or paced the grounds 
about the building. In him, it was rather a point to be ad- 
mired, than a blemish ; for it seemed to say, that notwith- 
standing the evidences of austerity which custom, and per- 
haps character, as well as rank, had gathered in his air, there 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 351 

was a heart beneath that might be touched by the charities 
of humanity. On the present occasion, the glances of his 
roving eye, though searching and full of meaning, were evi- 
dently weakened by an expression that betrayed a strange 
and unwonted confusion of mind. 

The conference of the three was ended, and the warrior 
with a turbaned head advanced towards his captives, with 
the step of a man whose mind had come to a decision. As 
the dreaded chief drew near, Whittal retired, stealing to 
the side of the younger warrior, in a manner that denoted 
greater familiarity, and perhaps greater confidence. A sud- 
den thought lighted the countenance of the latter. He led 
the innocent to the extremity of the piazza, spoke low and 
earnestly, pointing to the forest, and when he saw that his 
messenger was already crossing the fields at the top of his 
speed, he moved with a calm dignity into the centre of the 
group, taking his station so near his friend, that the folds 
of the scarlet blanket brushed his elbow. Until this move- 
ment the silence was not broken. When the great chief 
felt the passage of the other, he glanced a look of hesitation 
at his friends, but resuming his former air of composure^ he 
spoke : 

“ Man of many winters,” he commenced, in an English 
that was quite intelligible, while it betrayed a difficulty of 
speech we shall not attempt imitating, “why hath the 
Great Spirit made thy race like hungry wolves ? — why hath 
a Pale-face the stomach of a buzzard, the throat of a hound, 
and the heart of a deer ? Thou hast seen many meltings 
of the snow : thou rememberest the young tree a sapling. 
Tell me, Avhy is the mind of a Yengeese so big, that it must 
hold all that lies between the rising and the setting sun ? 
Speak, for we would know the reason why arms so long 
are found on so little bodies ?” 

The events of that day had been of a nature to awaken 
all the latent energies of the Puritan. He had lifted up his 


352 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WI S H . 

spirit, with the moming, in the customary warmth with 
which he ever hailed the Sabbath ; the excitement of the 
assault had found him sustained above most earthly cala- 
mities, and while it quickened feelings that can never 
become extinct in one W'ho has been familiar with martial 
usages, it left him, stern in his manhood, and exalted in his 
sentiments of submission and endurance. Tinder such influ- 
ences, he answered with an austerity that equalled the gra- 
vity of the Indian. 

“ The Lord hath delivered us into the bonds of the hea- 
then,” he said, “ and yet his name shall be blessed beneath 
my roof ! Out of evil shall come good ; and from this tri- 
umph of the ignorant shall proceed an everlasting victory !” 

The chief gazed intently at the speaker, whose attenuated 
frame, venerable face, and long locks, aided by the hectic 
of enthusiasm that played beneath a glazed and deep-set 
eye, imparted a character that seemed to rise superior to 
human weakness. Bending his head in superstitious reve- 
rence, he turned gravely to those who, appearing to possess 
more of the world in their natures, were more fitting sub- 
jects for the designs he meditated. 

“ The mind of my father is strong, but his body is like a 
branch of the scorched hemlock !” was the pithy declaration 
with which he prefaced his next remark. “ Why is this ?” 
he continued, looking severely at the three who had so 
lately been opposed to him in deadly contest. “ Here are 
men with skins like the blossom of the dog-wood, and yet 
their hands are so dark that I cannot see them !” 

“ They have been blackened by toil beneath a burning 
sun,” returned Content, who knew how to discourse in the 
figurative language of the people in whose power he found 
himself. “ We have labored, that our women and children 
might eat.” 

“ No — the blood of red men hath changed their color.” 

“We have taken up the hatchet, that the land which 


THE WEPT OP WISH - TON-WISH. 35eS 

the Great Spirit hath given might still be ours, and that 
our scalps might not be blown about in the smoke of a wig- 
wam. Would a Narragansett hide his arms, and tie up his 
hands, with the war-whoop ringing in his ears ?” 

When allusion was made to the ownership of the valley, 
the blood rushed into the cheek of the warrior in such a 
flood that it deepened even the natural swarthy hue ; but, 
clenching the handle of his axe convulsively, he continued 
to listen, like one accustomed to entire self-command. 

“ What a red man does may be seen,” he answered, 
pointing with a grim smile towards the orchard ; exposing, 
by the movement of the blanket, as he raised his arm, two 
of the reeking trophies of victory attached to his belt. 
“ Our ears are open very wide We listen, to hear in what 
manner the hunting-grounds of the Indian have become 
the ploughed flelds of the Yengeese. Now let my wise men 
hearken^ that they may grow more cunning, as the snows 
settle on their heads. The pale-men have a secret to make 
the black seem white !” 

“ Narragansett ” 

“ Wampanoag !” interrupted the chief, with the lofty air 
with which an Indian identifles himself* with the glory of 
his people ; then glancing a milder look at the young war- 
rior at his elbow, he added, hastily, and in the tone of a 
courtier, “ ’tis very good — Narragansett or Wampanoag — 
Wampanoag or Narragansett. The red men are brothers 
and friends. They have broken down the fences between 
their hunting-grounds, and they have cleared the paths* 
between their villages of briers. What have you to say to 
the Narragansett ? — he has not yet shut his ear.” 

“Wampanoag, if such be thy tribe,” resumed Content, 
“ thou shalt hear that which my conscience teacheth is lan- 
guage to be uttered. The God of an Englishman is the 
God of men of all ranks, and of all time.” His listeners 
shook their heads doubtingly, with the exception of the 


354 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

youngest chief, whose eye never varied its direction while 
the other spoke, each word appearing to enter deep within 
the recesses of his mind. “ In defiance of these signs of 
blasphemy, do I still proclaim the power of him I worship !” 
Content continued ; “ My God is thy God ; and he now 
looketh equally on the deeds, and searcheth, with inscru- 
table knowledge, into the hearts of both. This earth is 
his footstool ; yonder heaven his throne ! I pretend not to 
enter into his sacred mysteries, or to proclaim the reason 
why one-half of his fair work hath been so long left in that 
slough of ignorance and heathenish abomination in which 
my fathers found it; why these hills never before echoed 
the songs of praise, or why the valleys have been so long 
mute. These are truths hid in the secret designs of His 
sacrea purpose, and they may not be known until the last 
fulfilment. But a great and righteous spirit hath led hither 
men, filled with the love of truth and pregnant with the 
designs of a heavily-burdened faith, inasmuch as their long- 
ings are for things pure, while the consciousness of their 
transgressions bends them in deep humility to the dust. 
Thou bringest against us the charge of coveting thy lands, 
and of bearing minds filled with the corruption of riches. 
This cometh of ignorance of that which hath been aban- 
doned, in order that the spirit of the godly might hold fast 
to the truth. When the Yengeese came into this wilder- 
ness, he left behind him all that can delight the eye, please 
the senses, and feed the longing of the human heart, in the 
country of his fathers ; for fair as is the work of the Lord 
in other lands, there is none that is so excellent as that 
from which these pilgrims in the wilderness have departed. 
In that favored isle, the earth groaneth with the abundance 
of its products ; the odors of its sweet savors salute the nos- 
trils, and the eye is never wearied in gazing at its loveliness. 
No ; the men of the Pale-faces have deserted home, and 
all that sweeteneth life, that they might serve God ; and 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 355 


not at the instigations of craving minds or of evil vani- 
ties !” 

Content paused — for as he grew warm with the spirit by 
which he was animated, he had insensibly strayed from the 
closer points of his subject. Ilis conquerors maintained the 
decorous gravity with which an Indian always listens to the 
speech of another, until- he had ended, and then the Great 
Chief, or Wampanoag, as he had proclaimed himself to be,* 
laid a finger lightly on the shoulder of his prisoner, as he 
demanded — 

“ Why have the people of the Yengeese lost themselves on 
a blind path ? If the country they have left is pleasant, 
cannot their God hear them from the wigwams of their 
fathers ? See — if our trees are but bushes, leave them to 
the red man ; he will find room beneath their branches to 
lie in the shade. If our rivers are small, it is because the 
Indians are little. If the hills are low and the valleys nar- 
row, the legs of my people are weary with much hunting, 
and they will journey among them the easier. Now what 
the Great Spirit hath made for a red man, a red man should 
keep. They whose skins are like the light of the morning, 
should go back towards the rising sun, out of which they 
have come to do us wrong.” 

The chief spoke calmly ; but it was like a man much 
accustomed to deal in the subtleties of controversy, according 
to the fashion of the people to whom he belonged. 

“ God hath otherwise decreed, ’ said Content. “ He hath 
led his servants hither, that the incense of praise may arise 
from the wilderness.” 

“ Your Spirit is a wicked Spirit. Your ears have been 
cheated. The counsel that told your young men to come so 
far, was not spoken in the voice of the Manitou. It came 
from the tongue of one that, loves to see game scarce, and 
the squaws hungry. Go — you follow the mocker, or your 
hands would not be so dark.” 


356 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

“ I know not what injury may have been done the Wam- 
panoags, by men of wicked minds ; for some such there are, 
even in the dwellings of the well disposed — ^but wrong to 
any hath never come from those that dwell within my 
doors. For these lands, a price hath been paid, and what is 
now seen of abundance in the valley, hath been wrought by 
much labor. Thou art aWampanoag, and dost know that 
the hunting-grounds of thy tribe have been held sacred by 
my people. Are not the fences standing which their 
hands placed, that not even the hoof of colt should trample 
the corn ? and when was it known that the Indian came for 
justice against the trespassing ox, and did not find it ?” 

“The moose doth not taste the grass at the root — he 
liveth on the tree ! He doth not stoop to feed on that 
which he treadeth under foot ! Does the hawk look for the 
musquito ? His eye is too big. He can see a bird. Go — 
when the deer have been killed, the Wampanoags will 
break down the fence with their own hands. The arm of a 
hungry man is strong. A cunning Pale-face hath made that 
fence ; it shutteth out the colt, and it shutteth in the Indian. 
But the mind of a warrior is too big ; it will not be kept at 
grass with the ox.” 

A low but expressive murmur of satisfaction from the 
mouths of his grim companions, succeeded this reply of the 
chief. 

“ The country of thy tribe is far distant,” returned Con- 
tent, “ and I will not lay untruth to my soul, by presuming 
to say whether justice or injustice hath been done them in 
the partition of the lands. But in this valley hath wrong 
never been done to the red man. What Indian hath asked 
for food, and not got it ? If he hath been a-thirst, the cider 
came at his wish ; if he hath been a-cold, there was a seat 
by the hearth ; and yet hath there been reason why the 
hatchet should be in my hand, and why my foot should be 
on the war-path 1 For many seasons we lived on lands 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 357 

which were bought of both red and white man, in peace. 
But though the sun shone clear so long, the clouds came at 
last. There was a dark night fell upon this valley, Wam- 
panoag, and death and the brand entered my dwelling 

together. Our young men were killed, and our spirits 

were sorely tried.” 

Content paused — for his voice became thick, and his eye 
had caught a glimpse of the pale and drooping countenance 
of her who leaned on the arm of the still excited and frown- 
ing Mark for support. The young chief listened with a 
charmed ear. As Content had proceeded, his body was 
inclined a little forward, and his whole attitude was that 
which men unconsciously assume when intensely occupied in 
listening to sounds of the deepest interest. 

“ But the sun rose again !” said the great chief, pointing 
at the evidences of prosperity which were everywhere appa- 
rent in the settlement, casting at the same time an uneasy 
and suspicious glance at his youngest companion. “The 
morning was clear, though the night was so dark. The 
cunning of a Pale-face knows how to make corn grow on a 
rock. The foolish Indian eats roots, when crops fail and 
grain is scarce.” 

“God ceased to be angry,” returned Content meekly, 
folding his arms in a manner to show he wished to speak 
no more 

The great chief was about to continue, when his younger 
associate laid a finger on his naked shoulder, and by a sign, 
indicated that he wished to hold communication with him 
apart. The former met the request with respect, though it 
might be discovered that he little liked the expression of his 
companion’s features, and that he yielded with reluctance, 
if not with disgust. But the countenance of the youth was 
firm, and it would have needed more than usual hardihood 
to refuse a request seconded by so steady and so meaning an 
eye. The elder spoke to the warrior nearest his elbow. 


358 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. ^ 

addressing him by the name of Annawon, and then, by a 
gesture so natural and so dignified, that it might have 
graced the air of a courtier, he announced his readiness to 
proceed. Notwithstanding the habitual reverence of the 
aborigines for age, the others gave way for the passage of 
the young man, in a manner to proclaim that merit or birth, 
or both, had united to purchase for him a personal distinc- 
tion which far exceeded .that shown in common to men of 
his years. The two chiefs left the piazza in the noiseless 
manner of the moccasined foot. 

The passage of these dignified warriors towards the 
grounds in the rear of the dwelling, as it was characteristic 
of their habits, is worthy of being mentioned. Neither 
spoke, neither manifested any womanish impatience to pry 
into the musings of the other’s mind, and neither failed in 
those slight but still sensible courtesies by which the path 
was rendered commodious and the footing sure. They had 
reached the summit of the elevation so often named, ere 
they believed themselves sufficiently retired to indulge in a 
discourse which might otherwise have enlightened profane 
ears. AVhen beneath the shade of the fragrant orchard 
which grew on the hill, the senior of the two stopped, and 
throwing about him one of those quick, nearly impercepti- 
ble, and yet wary glances by which an Indian understands 
his precise position, as it were by instinct, he commenced 
the dialogue. The discourse was in the dialect of their 
race ; but as it is not probable that many who read these 
pages would be much enlightened were we to record it in 
the precise words in which it has been transmitted to us, a 
translation into English, as freely as the subject requires 
and the geniuses of the two languages will admit,, shall be 
attempted. 

“ What would my brother have ?” commenced he with 
the turbaned head, uttering the guttural sounds in the low, 
soothing tones of friendship, and even of affection. “ What 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 359 


troubles the Great Sachem of the Narragansetts ? His 
thoughts seem uneasy. I think there is more before his 
eye than one whose sight is getting dim can see. Doth he 
behold the spirit of the brave Miantonimoh, who died like 
a dog, beneath the blows of cowardly Pequots and false- 
tongued Yengeese ? Or does his heart swell with longing 
to see the scalps of treacherous Pale-faces hanging at his 
belt ? Speak, my son ; the hatchet hath long been buried 
in the path between our villages, and thy words will enter 
the ears of a friend.” 

“ I do not see the spirit of my father,” returned the 
young Sachem ; “ hp is afar off in the hunting-grounds of 
just warriors. My eyes are too weak to look over so many 
mountains and across so many rivers. He is chasing the 
moose in grounds where there are no briers ; he needeth 
not the sight of a young man to tell him which way the 
trail leadeth. Why should I look at the place where the 
Pequot and the Pale-face took his life ? The fire which 
scorched this hill hath blackened the spot, and I can no 
longer find the marks of blood.” 

“ My son is very wise — cunning beyond his winters ! 
That which hath been once revenged, is forgotten. He 
looks no further than six moons. He sees the warriors of 
the Yengeese coming into his village, murdering his old 
women, and slaying the Harragansett girls ; killing his 
warriors from behind, and lighting their fires with the bones 
of red men. I will now stop my ears, for the groans of 
the slaughtered make my soul feel weak.” 

“ Wampanoag,” answered the other, with a fierce fiashing 
of his eagle eye, and laying his hand firmly on his breast, 
“ the night the snows were red with the blood of my peo- 
ple, is here ! my mind is dark : none of my race have since 
looked upon the place where the lodges of the Narragan- 
setts stood, and yet it hath never been hid from our sight 
Since that time have we travelled in the woods, bearing on 


360 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

our backs all that is left but our sorrow that we carry in 
our hearts.” 

“ Why is my brother troubled ? There are many scalps 
among his people, and see, his own tomahawk is very red ! 
Let him quiet his anger till the night cometh, and there will 
be a deeper stain on the axe. I know he is in a hurry, but our 
councils say it is better to wait for darkness, since the cun- 
ning of the Pale-faces is too strong for the hands of our 
young men.” 

“ When was a Narragansett slow to leap, after the whoop 
was given, or unwilling to stay when men of grey heads 
say ’tis better ? I like your counsel — it is full of wisdom. 
Yet an Indian is but a man ! Can he fight with the God of 
the Yengeese ? He is too weak. An Indian is but a man, 
though his skin be red !” 

“ I look into the clouds, at the trees, among the lodges,” 
said the other, affecting to gaze curiously at the different 
objects he named, “but I cannot see the white Manitou. 
The Pale-men were talking' to him when we raised the 
whoop in their fields, and yet he has not heard them. Go ; 
my son has struck their warriors with a strong hand ; has 
he forgotten to count how many dead lie among the trees, 
with the sweet-smelling blossoms ?” 

“ Metacom,” returned he who has been called the Sachem 
of the Narragansetts, stepping cautiously nearer to his 
friend, and speaking lower, as if he feared an invisible audi- 
tor ; “ thou hast put hate into the bosoms of the red men, 
but canst thou make them more cunning than the Spirits ? 
Hate is very strong, but cunning hath a longer arm. See,” 
he added,' raising the fingers of his two hands before the 
eyes of his attentive companion, “ ten snows have come 
and melted since there stood a lodge of the Pale-faces on 
this hill. Conanchet was then a boy. His hand had struck 
nothing but deer. His heart was full of wishes. By day 
he thought of Pequot scalps, at night he heard the dying 




THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 361 


words of Miantonimoli. Though slain by cowardly Pequots 
and lying Yengeese, his father came with the night into his 
wigwam, to talk to his son. ‘ Does the child of so many 
great Sachems grow big ?’ would he say ; ‘ is his arm get- 
ting strong, his foot light, his eye quick, his heart valiant ? 
Will Conanchet be like his fathers ? when will the young 
Sachem of the Narragansetts become a man ?’ Why 
should I tell my brother of these visits? Metacom hath 
often seen the long line of Wampanoag Chiefs, in his sleep. 
The brave Sachems sometimes enter into the heart of their 
son?” 

The lofty-minded though wily Philip struck his hand 
heavily upon his naked breast, as he answered — 

“ They are always here. Metacom has no soul but the 
spirit of his fathers !” 

When he was tired of silence the murdered Miantoni- 
moh spoke aloud,” continued Conanchet, after permitting 
the customary courteous pause to succeed the emphatic 
words of his companion. “-He bade his son arise, and go 
among the Yengeese, that he might return with scalps to 
hang in his wig^vam ; for the eyes of the dead chief liked 
not to see the place so empty. The voice of Conanchet 
was then too feeble for the council-fire ; he said nothing — 
he went alone. An evil spirit gave him into the hands of 
the Pale-faces. He was a captive many moons. They shut 
him in a cage, like a tamed panther ! It was here. The 
news of his ill-luck passed from the mouths of the young 
men of the Yengeese to the hunters, and from the hunters 
it came to the ears of the Narragansetts. My people had 
lost their Sachem, and they came to seek him. Metacom, 
the boy had felt the power of the God of the Yengeese! 
His mind began to grow weak ; he thought less of revenge ; 
the spirit of his father came no more at night. There was 
much talking with the unknown God, and the words of his 
enemies were kind. He hunted with them. When he met 
16 


362 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

the trail of his warriors in the woods his mind was troubled, 
for he knew their errand. Still he saw his father’s spirit, 
and waited. The whoop was heard that night ; many died, 
and the Narragansetts took scalps. Thou seest this lodge 
of stone, over which fire has passed. There was then a' 
cunning place above, and in it the Pale-men went to fight 
for their lives. But the fire kindled, and then there was no 
hope. The soul of Conanchet was moved at that sight, for 
there was much honesty in them within. Though their 
skins were so white, they had not slain his father. But the 
flames would not he spoken to, and the place became like 
the coals of a deserted council-fire. All within were turned 
to ashes. If the spirit of Miantonimoh rejoiced, it was 
well, but the soul of his son was very heavy. The weakness 
was on him, and he no longer thought of boasting of his 
deeds at the war-post.” 

“ That fire scorched the stain of blood from the Sachem’s 
plain ? ” 

“ It did. Since that time I have not seen the marks of 
my father’s blood. Grey heads and hoys were in that fire, 
and when the timbers fell nothing was left but coals. Yet 
do they, who were in the blazing lodge, stand there ! ” 

The attentive Metacom started, and glanced a hasty look 
at the ruin. 

“ Does my son see spirits in the air ! ” he asked hastily. 

“ No, they live ; they are bound for the torments. In the 
white head, is he who talked much with his god. The 
elder chief who struck our young men so hard, was then also 
a captive in this lodge. He who spoke, and she who seems 
even paler than her race, died that night ; and yet are they 
now here ! Even the brave youth that was so hard to con- 
quer, looks like a boy that was in the fire ! The Yengeese 
deal with unknown Gods ; they are too cunning for an 
Indian!” 

Philip heard this strange tale, as a being educated in 


TTIH WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


363 


superstitious legends would be ,apt to listen ; and yet it was 
with a leaning to incredulity, that was generated by his 
fierce and indomitable desire for the destruction of the 
hated race. He had prevailed, in the councils of his nation, 
over many similar signs of supernatural agency that was 
exercised in favor of his enemies, but never before had facts 
so imposing come so directly and from so high a source 
before his mind. Even the proud resolution and far-sighted 
wisdom of this sagacious chief was shaken by siich testi- 
mony, and there was a single moment when the idea of 
abandoning a league that seemed desperate took possession 
of his brain.. Bub true to himself and his cause, second 
thoughts and a firmer purpose restored his resolution, though 
they could not remove the perplexity of his doubts. 

“What does Conanchet wish ? ” he said. “Twice have 
his warriors broken into this valley, and twice have the toma- 
hawks of his young men been redder than the head of the 
woodpecker. The fire was not good fire ; the tomahawk 
will kill surer. Had not the voice of my brother said to 
his young men, ‘ let the scalps of the prisoners alone,’ he 
could not now say, ‘ yet do they now stand here ! ’ ” 

“ My mind is troubled, friend of my father. Let them be 
questioned artfully, that the truth be known.” 

Metacom mused an instant; then smiling in a friendly 
manner on his young and much moved companion, he made 
a sign to a youth who was straying about the fields to ap- 
proach. This young warrior was made the bearer of an 
order to lead the captives to the hill, after which the two 
chiefs stalked to and fro in silence, each brooding ovet what 
had passed, in a humor that was suited to his particular 
character and more familiar feelings. 


364 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 


CHAPTER XXy. 

“No withered witch shall here be seen, 

No goblins lead their nightly crew ; 

The female fays shall haunt the green, 

And dress thy grave with pearly dew.” 

Collins. 


It is rarely indeed that the philosophy of a dignified Indian 
is so far disturbed as to destroy the appearance of equanimity. 
When Content and the family of the Heathcotes appeared 
on the hill, they found the chiefs still pacing the orchard, 
with the outward composure of men unmoved, and with the 
gravity that was suited to their rank. Annawon, who had 
acted as their conductor, caused the captives to be placed in 
a row, choosing the foot of the ruin for their position, and 
then he patiently awaited the moment when his superiors 
might be pleased to renew the examination. In this 
habitual silence, there was nothing of the abject air of 
Asiatic deference. It proceeded from the habit of self- 
command which taught the Indian to repress all natural 
emotions. A very similar effect was produced by the 
religious abasement of those whom fortune had now thrown 
into their power. It would have been a curious study for 
one interested in the manners of the human species, to note 
the difference between the calm, physical, and perfect self- 
possession of the wild tenants of the forest, and the ascetic, 
spiritually sustained, and yet meek submission to Providence, 
that was exhibited by most of the prisoners. We say of most, 
for there was an exception. The brow of young Mark still 
retained its frown, and the angry character of his eye was 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 365 


only lost when by chance it lighted on the drooping form 
and pallid features of his mother. There was ample time 
for these several and peculiar qualities to be thus silently 
exhibited, many minutes passing before either of the Sachems 
seemed inclined to recommence the conference. At length 
Philip, or Metacom, as we shall indifferently called him, 
drew near and spoke. 

“ This earth is a good earth,” he said ; “ it is of many 
colors, to please the eyes of him who made it. In one part 
it is dark, and as the worm taketh the color of the leaf on 
which he crawls, there the hunters are black; in another 
part it is white, and that is the part where pale-men were 
born, and where they should die ; or they may m.iss the 
road which leads to their happy hunting-grounds. Many 
just warriors who have been killed on distant war-paths 
still wander in the woods, because the trail is hid and their 
sight dim. It is not good to trust so much to the cunning 
of ” 

“ Wretched and blind worshipper of Apollyon !” inter- 
rupted the Puritan, “ we are not of the idolatrous and 
foolish -minded ! It hath been accorded to us to know the 
Lord ; to his chosen worshippers all regions are alike. The 
spirit can mount equally through snows and whirlwinds ; the 
tempest and the calm ; from the lands of the sun, and the 
lands of frosts ; from the depths of the ocean, from fire, 
from the forest ” 

He was interrupted in his turn. At the word fire, the 
finger of Metacom fell meaningly on his shoulder, and when 
he had ceased, for until then no Indian would have spoken, 
the other gravely asked — 

“ And when a man of a pale skin hath gone up in the 
fire can he again walk upon earth ? Is the river between 
this clearing and the pleasant fields of a Yengeese so nar- 
row, that the just men can step across it when they please ?” 

“This is the conceit of one wallowing in the slough of 


366 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

heathenish abominations ? Child of ignorance ! know that 
the barriers which separate heaven from earth are impassa- 
ble ; for what purified being could endure the wickedness 
of the flesh ?” 

“ This is a lie of the false Pale-faces,” said the wily Philip ; 
“ it is told that the Indian might not learn their cunning, 
and become stronger than a Yengeese. My father, and 
those with him, were once burnt in this lodge, and now he 
standeth here, ready to take the tomahawk !” 

“ To be angered at this blasphemy, would ill denote the 
pity that I feel,” said Mark, more excited at the charge of 
necromancy than he was. willing to own ; “ and yet to sufifer 
so fatal an error to spread among these deluded victims of 
Satan, would be neglect of duty. Thou hast heard some 
bgend of thy wild people, man of the Wampanoags, which 
may heap double perdition on thy soul, lest thou shouldst 
happily be rescued from the fangs of the deceiver. It is 
true, that I and mine were in exceeding jeopardy in this 
tower, and that to the eyes of men without we seemed 
melted with the heat of the flames ; but the Lord put it 
into our spirits to seek refuge whither fire could not come. 
The well was made the instrument of our safety, for the ful- 
filment of his own inscrutable designs.” 

Notwithstanding the long practised and exceeding sub- 
tlety of the listeners, they heard this simple explanation of 
that which they had deemed a miracle, with a wonder that 
could not readily be concealed. Delight at the excellence 
of the artifice was evidently the first and common emotion 
of them both ; nor woul^ they yield implicit faith until as- 
sured beyond a doubt that whu,t they heard was .true. The 
little iron door, which had permitted access to the well, for 
the ordinary domestic purposes of the family, was still there ; 
and it was only after each had cast a look down the deep 
shaft, that he appeared satisfied of the practicability of the 
deed. Then a look of triumph gleamed in the swarthy 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 367 

visage of Philip, while the features of his associate expressed 
equally his satisfaction and his regret. They walked apart, 
musing on what they had just seen and heard ; and when 
they spoke, it was again in the language of their people. 

“ My son hath a tongue that cannot lie,” observed Meta- 
com, in a soothing, flattering accent. “ What he hath seen, 
he tells ; and what he tells, is true. Conanchet is not a hoy, 
but a chief whose wisdom is grey, while his limbs are young. 
Now, why shall not his people take the scalps of these Yen- 
geese, that they may never go any more into holes in the 
earth, like cunning foxes ?” 

“ The Sachem hath a very bloody mind,” returned the 
young chief, quicker than was common for men of his 
station. “ Let the arms of the warriors rest, till they meet 
the armed hands of the Yengeese, or they will be too tired 
to strike heavily. My young men have taken scalps since 
the sun came over the trees, and they are satisfied — Why 
does Metacom look so hard ? What does my father see ?” 

“ A dark spot in the middle of a white plain. The grass 
is not green ; it is red as blood. It is too dark for the blood 
of a Pale-face. It is the rich blood of a great warrior. 
The rains cannot wash it out ; it grows darker every sun. 
The snows do not whiten it ; it hath been there many win- 
ters. The birds scream as they fly over it ; the wolf howls ; 
the lizards creep another way.” 

“ Thine eyes are getting old ; fire hath blackened the 
place, and wPat thou seest is coal.” 

“ The fire was kindled in a well ; it did not burn bright. 
What I see, is blood.” 

‘WVampanoag,” rejoined Conanchet, fiercely, “I have 
scorched the spot with the lodges of the Yengeese. The 
grave of my father is covered with scalps taken by the hand 
of his son — Why does Metacom look again ? W^hat does 
the chief see ?” 

“An Indian town burning in the midst of the snow; the 


368 THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 

young men struck from behind ; the girls screaming ; the 
children broiling on coals, and the old men dying like dogs ! 
It is the village of the cowardly Pequots — No, I see better ; 
the Yengeese are in the country of the Great Narragansett, 
and the brave Sachem is there, fighting ! I shut my eyes, 
for smoke blinds them !” 

Conanchet heard this allusion to the recent and deplora- 
ble fate of the principal establishment of his tribe, in sullen 
silence ; for the desire of revenge, which had been so fear- 
fully awakened, seemed now to be slumbering, if it were not 
entirely quelled by the agency of some mysterious and 
potent feeling. He rolled his eyes gloomily, from the appa- 
rently abstracted countenance of his artful companion, to 
those of the captives, whose fate only awaited his judgment, 
since the band which had that morning broken in upon the 
Wish-Ton-Wish was, with but few exceptions, composed of 
the surviving warriors of his own powerful nation. But, 
while his look was displeased, faculties that were schooled 
so highly, could not easily be mistaken in what passed, even 
in the most cursory manner, before his sight. 

“ What sees my father next ?” he asked, with an interest 
he could not control, detecting another change in the 
features of Metacom. 

“ One who is neither white nor red. A young woman, 
that boundeth like a skipping fawn ; who hath lived in a 
wigwam, doing nothing; who speaks with two tongues; 
who holds her hands before the eyes of a great warrior, till 
he is blind as the owl in the sun — I see her ” 

Metacom paused, for at that moment a being that singu- 
larly resembled this description appeared before him, offer- 
ing the reality of the imaginary picture he was drawing with 
so much irony and art. 

The movement of the timid hare is scarce more hurried, 
or more undecided, than that of the creature who now sud- 
denly presented herself to the warriors. It was apparent, 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 369 

by the hesitating and half-retreating step that succeeded the 
light bound with which she came in view, that she dreaded 
to advance, while she knew not how far it might be pro- 
per to retire. For the first moment, she stood in a suspended 
and doubting posture, such as one might suppose a creature 
of mist would assume ere it vanished, and then meeting the 
eye of Conanchet, the uplifted foot retouched the earth, and 
her whole form sank into the modest and shrinking attitude 
of an Indian girl, who stood in the presence of a Sachem 
of her tribe. As this female is to enact no mean part in 
that which follows, the reader may be thankful for a more 
minute description of her person. 

The age of the stranger was under twenty. In form she 
rose above the usual stature of an Indian maid, though the 
proportions of her person were as light and buoyant as at 
all comported with the fulness that properly belonged to 
her years. The limbs, seen below the folds of a short kirtle 
of bright scarlet cloth, were just and tapering, even to the 
nicest proportions of classic beauty ; and never did foot of 
higher instep, and softer round ness, grace a feathered moc- 
casin. Though the person, from the neck to the knees, was 
hid by a tightly-fitting vest of calico and the short kirtle 
named, enough of the shape was visible to betray outlines 
that had never been injured, either by the mistaken devices 
of art or by the baneful effects of toil. The skin was only 
visible at the hands, face, and neck. Its lustre having been 
a little dimmed by exposure, a rich, rosy tint had usurped 
the natural brightness of a complexion that had once been 
fair even to briiliancy. The eye was full, sweet, and of a 
blue that emulated the sky of evening ; the brows, soft and 
arched ; the nose, straight, delicate, and slightly Grecian ; 
the forehead, fuller than that which properly belonged 
to a girl of the Narragansetts, but regular, delicate, 
and polished; and the hair, instead of dropping in long 
straight tresses of jet black, broke out of the restraints 
16 * 


370 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

of a band of beaded wampum, in ringlets of golden 

The peculiarities that distinguished this female from the 
others of her tribe, were not confined alone to the indelible 
marks of nature. Her step was more elastic — her gait more 
erect and graceful — her foot less inwardly inclined, and her 
whole movements freer and more decided than those of a 
race doomed from infancy to subjection and labor. Though 
ornamented by some of the prized inventions of the hated 
race to which she evidently owed her birth, she had the 
wild and timid look of those with whom she had grown into 
womanhood. Her beauty would have been remarkable in 
any region of the earth, while the play of muscle, the 
ingenuous beaming of the eye, and the freedom of limb and 
action were such as seldom pass beyond the years of child- 
hood, among people who, in attempting to improve, so often 
mar the works of nature. 

Although the color of the eye was so very different from 
that which generally belongs to one of Indian origin, the 
manner of its quick and searching glance, and of the half- 
alarmed and yet understanding look with which this extra- 
ordinary creature made herself mistress of the more general 
character of the assemblage before which she had been sum- 
moned, was like the half-instinctive knowledge of one accus- 
tomed to the constant and keenest exercise of her faculties. 
Pointing with a finger towards Whittal Ring, who stood a 
little in the back-ground, a low, sweet voice was heard 
asking, in the language of the Indians — 

“Why has Conanchet sent for his woman from the 
woods ? ” ^ 

The young Sachem made no reply. An ordinary specta- 
tor could not have detected about him even a consciousness 
of the speaker’s presence. On the contrary, he maintained 
the lofty reserve of a chief engaged in affairs of moment. 
However deeply his thoughts might have been troubled, it 


4 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 371 

was not easy to trace any evidence of tlie state of his mind 
in the calmness of features that appeared habitually immo- 
vable. For a single treacherous instant only, was a glance 
of kindness shot towards the timid and attentive girl, and 
then throwing the still bloody tomahawk into the hollow 
of one arm, while the hand of the other firmly grasped its 
handle, he remained unchanged in feature, as he was rigid 
in limb. Not so with Philip. When the intruder first 
appeared, a dark and lowering gleam of discontent gathered 
at his brow. It quickly changed to a look of sarcastic and 
biting scorn. 

“Does my brother again wish to know what I see!” 
he demanded, when sufiicient time had passed, after the 
unanswered question of the female, to show that his com- 
panion was not disposed to answer. 

“ What does the Sachem of the Wampanoags now 
behold?” returned Conanchet, proudly, unwilling to show 
that any circumstance had occurred to interrupt the subject 
of their conference. 

“ A sight that his eyes will not believe. He sees a great 
tribe on the war-path. There are many braves, and a 
chief whose fathers came from the clouds. Their hands are 
in the air. They strike heavy blows ; the arrow is swift, 
and the bullet is not seen to enter — but it kills. Blood runs 
from the wounds, that is of the color of water. Now he 
does not see, but he hears ! ’Tis the scalp-whoop, and the 
warriors are very glad. The chiefs in the happy hunting- 
grounds are coming with joy to meet Indians that are 
killed ; for they know the scalp-whoop of their children.” 

The expressive countenance of the young Sachem invo- 
luntarily responded to this description of the scene through 
which he had just passed ; and it was impossible for one so 
tutored, to prevent the blood from rushing faster to a 
heart that ever beat strongly with the wishes of a war- 




nor. 


372 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“What sees my father next?” he asked, triumph insensi- 
bly stealing into the tones of his voice. 

“ A messenger : and then he hears — the moccasins of 
squaws !” 

“ Enough ; — Metacom, the women of the Narragansetts 
have no lodges. Their villages are in coals, and they follow 
the young men for food.” 

“ I see no deer. The hunter will not find venison in a 
clearing of the Pale-faces. But the corn is full of milk. 
Conanchet is very hungry ; he hath sent for his woman, 
that he may eat !” 

The fingers of that hand which grasped the handle of the 
tomahawk appeared to bury themselves in the wood. The 
glittering axe itself was slightly raised ; but the fierce 
gleaming of resentment subsided, as the anger of the young 
Sachem vanished, and a dignified calm again settled on his 
countenance. 

“Go, Wampanoag,” he said, waving a hand proudly, as 
if determined to be no longer harassed by the language of 
his wily associate. “ My young men will raise the whoop 
when they hear my voice, and they will kill deer for their 
women. Sachem, my mind is my own.” 

Philip answered to the look which accompanied these 
words, with one that threatened vengeance ; but smothering 
his anger with his accustomed wisdom, he left the hill, 
assuming an air that affected more of commiseration than 
of resentment. 

“ Why has Conanchet sent for a woman from the woods ?” 
repeated the same soft voice, nearer to the elbow of the 
young Sachem, and which spoke with less of the timidity of 
the sex, now that the troubled spirit of the Indians of those 
regions had disappeared. 

“ Narra-mattah, come near,” returned the young chief^ 
changing the deep and proud tones in which he had 
addressed his restless and bold companion in arms, to those 


THE WEPT OP WISH -TON-WISH. S'ZS 

which, better suited the gentle ear for which his words were 
intended. “ Fear not, daughter of the morning ; for those 
around us are of a race used to see women at the council- 
fires. Now look, with an open eye. Is there anything 
among these trees that seemeth like . an ancient tradition ? 
Hast ever beheld such a valley in thy dreams ? Have yon- 
der Pale-faces whom the tomahawks of my young men 
spared, been led before thee by the Great Spirit in the da.*k 
night ?” 

The female listened in deep attention. Her gaze was wild 
and uncertain, and yet it was not absolutely without gleam- 
ings of a half-reviving intelligence. Until that moment she 
had been too much occupied in conjecturing the subject of 
her visit, to regard the natural objects by which she was 
surrounded; but with her attention thus directly turned 
upon them, her organs of sight embraced each and all, with 
the discrimination that is so remarkable in those whose facul- 
ties are quickened by danger and necessity. Passing from 
side to side, her swift glances ran over the distant hamlet, 
with its little fort, the buildings in the near grounds, the soft 
and verdant fields — the fragrant orchard, beneath whose 
leafy shades she stood, and the blackened tower that rose in 
its centre like some gloomy memorial, placed there to 
remind the spectator not to trust too fondly to the signs of 
peace and loveliness that reigned around. Shaking back 
the ringlets that had blown about her temples, the won- 
dering female returned thoughtfully and in silence to her 
place. 

“Tis a village of the Yengeese!” she said, after a long, 
and expressive pause. “A Narragansett woman does not 
love to look at the lodges of the hated race.” 

“Listen. — Lies have never entered the ears of Narra- 
mattah. My tongue hath spoken like the tongue of a 
chief. Thou didst not come of the sumach, but of the snow. 
This hand of thine is not like the hands of the women of 


374 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 

my tribe ; it is little, for tbe Great Spirit did not make it for 
work ; it is of the color of the sky in the morning, for thy 
fathers were born near the place where the sun rises. Thy 
blood is like spring-water. All this thou knowest, for none 
have spoken false in thy ear. Speak — dost thou never see 
the wigwam of thy father ? Does not his voice whisper to 
thee in the language of his people 

The female stood in the attitude which a sibyl might be 
supposed to assume, while listening to the occult mandates 
of the mysterious oracle, every faculty entranced and 
attentive. 

“ Why does Conanchet ask these questions of his wife ? 
He knows what she knows ; he sees what she sees ; his 
mind is her mind. If the Great Spirit made her skin of a 
different color, he made her heart the same. Narra-mattah 
will not listen to the lying language ; she shuts her ears, for 
there is deceit in its sounds. She tries to forget it. One 
tongue can say all she wishes to speak to Conanchet ; why 
should she look back in dreams, when a great chief is her 
husband ?” 

The eye of the warrior, as he looked upon the ingenuous 
and confiding face of the speaker, was kind to fondness. 
The firmness had passed away, and in its place was left the 
winning softness of affection, which, as it belongs to nature, 
is seen, at times, in the expression of an Indian’s eye, as 
strongly as it is ever known to sweeten the intercourse of 
a more polished condition of life. 

“ Girl,” he said with emphasis, after a moment of 
thought, as if he would recall her and himself to more 
important duties, “ this is a war-path ; all on it are men. 
Thou wast like the pigeon before its wing opens, when I 
brought thee from the nest ; still the winds of many winters 
had blown upon thee. Dost never think of the warmth and 
of the food of the lodge in which thou hast passed so many 
seasons ?” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 875 

“ The wigwam of Conanchet is warm ; no woman of the 
tribe hath as many furs as Narra-mattah.” 

“ He is a great hunter ! when they hear his moccasin, the 
beavers lie down to be killed ! But the men of the Pale- 
faces hold the plough. Does not ‘ the driven snow ’ think of 
those who fenced the wigwam of her father from the cold, 
or of the manner in which the Yengeese live ?” 

His youthful and attentive wife seemed to reflect ; but 
raising her face, with an expression of content that could 
not be counterfeited, she shook her head in the negative. 

“ Does she never see a fire kindled among the lodges, or 
hear the whoops of warriors as they break into a settle- 
ment ?” 

“Many fires have been kindled before her eyes. Tlie 
ashes of the Narragansett town are not yet cold.” 

“Does not Narra-mattah hear her father speaking to the 
God of the Yengeese ? Listen — he is asking favor for his 
child?” 

“ The Great Spirit of the Narragansett has ears for his 
people.” 

“ But I hear a softer voice ! Tis a woman of the Pale- 
faces among her children : cannot the daughter hear ?” 

Narra-mattah, or ‘the driven snow,’ laid her hand lightly 
on the arm of the chief, and she looked wistfully and long 
into his face, without an answer. The gaze seemed to 
deprecate the anger that might be awakened by what she 
was about to reveal. 

“ Chief of my people,” she said, encouraged by his still 
calm and gentle brow, to proceed,' “what a girl of the 
clearings sees in her dreams, shall not be hid. It is not 
the lodges of her race, for the wigwam of her husband is 
warmer. It is not the food and clothes of a cunning people, 
for who is richer than the wife of a great chief? It is not 
her father speaking to their Spirit, for there is none stronger 
than Manitou. Narra-mattah has forgotten all : she does 


37G the wept of wish-ton- wish. 

not wish to think of things like these. She knows how to 
hate a hungry and craving race. But she sees one that the 
wives of the Narragansetts do not see. She sees a woman 
with a white skin ; her eyes look softly on her child in her 
dreams ; it is not an eye, it is a tongue ! It says, what 
does the wife of Conanchet wish? — is she .cold? here are 
furs — is she hungry? here is venison — is she tired? the 
arms of the pale woman open, that an Indian girl may 
sleep. When there is silence in the lodges, when Conan- 
chet and his young men lie down, then does this pale woman 
speak. Sachem, she does not talk of the battles of her 
people, nor of the scalps that her warriors have taken, nor 
of the manner in which the Pequots and Mohicans fear her 
tribe. She does not tell how a young Narragansett should 
obey her husband, nor how the woman must keep food in 
the lodges for the hunters that are wearied; her tongue 
useth strange words. It names a mighty and Just Spirit, 
it telleth of peace and not of war ; it soundeth as one talking 
from the clouds ; it is like the falling of the water among 
rocks. Narra-mattah loves to listen, for the words seem to 
her like the Wish-Ton-Wish, wPen he whistles in the woods.” 

Conanchet had ' fastened a look of deep and affectionate 
interest on the wild and sAveet countenance of the being 
who stood before him. She had spoken in that attitude of 
earnjest and natural eloquence that no art can equal ; and 
when she ceased, he laid a hand, in kind but melancholy 
fondness, on the half-inclined and motionless head, as he 
answered : 

“ This is the bird of night, singing to its young ! The 
Great Spirit of thy fathers is angry, that thou livest in the 
lodge of a Narragansett. His sight is too cunning to be 
cheated. He knows that the moccasin, and the wampum, 
and the robe of fur are liars; he sees the color of the skin 
beneath.” 

“Conanchet, no,” returned the female hurriedly, and 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 377 

with a decision her timidity did not give reason to expect. 
“ He seeth further than the skin, and knoweth the color of 
the mind. He hath forgotten that one of his girls is miss- 
ing.” 

•“ It is not so. The eagle of my people was taken into 
the lodges of the Pale-faces. He was young, and they 
taught him to sing with another tongue. The colors of his 
feathers were changed, and "they thought to cheat the Mani- 
tou. But when the door was open, he spread his wings and 
flew back to his nest. It is not so. What hath been done 
is good, and what will be done is better. Come, there is a 
straight path before us.” 

Thus saying, Conanchet motioned to his wife to follow 
towards the group of captives. The foregoing dialogue had 
occurred in a place where the two parties were partially 
concealed from each other by the ruin ; but as the distance 
was so trifling, the Sachem and his companion were soon 
confronted with those he songht. Leaving his wife a little 
without the circle, Conanchet advanced, and taking the 
unresisting and half-unconscions Kuth by the arm, he led 
her forward. He placed the two females in attitudes where 
each might look the other full in the face. Strong emotion 
struggled in a countenance, which, in spite of its fierce mask 
of war-paint, could not entirely conceal its workings. 

“ See,” he said in English, looking earnestly from one to 
the other. “ The Good Spirit is not ashamed of his work. 
What he hath done, he hath done; Narragansett nor Yen- 
geese can alter it. This is the white bird that came from 
the sea,” he added, touching the shoulder of Ruth lightly 
with a finger, “ and this the young, that she warmed under 
her wing.” 

Then, folding his arms on his naked breast, he appeared 
to summon his energy, lest, in the scene that he knew must 
follow, his manhood might be betrayed into some act 
unworthy of his name. 


378 THE WEPT OF WISH -TON-WISH. 

The captives were necessarily ignorant of the meaning 
of the scene which they had just witnessed. So many 
strange and savage-looking forms were constantly passing 
and repassing before their eyes, that the arrival of one mwe 
or less was not likely to be noted. Until she heard Conan- 
chet speak in her native tongue, Ruth had lent no attention 
to the interview between him and his wife. But the figura- 
tive language and no less remarkable action of the Narragan- 
sett had the effect to arouse her suddenly, and in the most 
exciting manner, from her melancholy. 

No child of tender age ever unexpectedly came before 
the eyes of Ruth Heathcote, without painfully recalling the 
image of the cherub she had lost. The playfiil voice of 
infancy never surprised her ear, without the sound conveying 
a pang to the heart ; nor could allusion, ever so remote, be 
made to persons or events that bore resemblance to the sad 
incidents of her own life, without quickening the never-dying 
pulses of maternal love. No wonder, then, that when she 
fonnd herself in the situation and under the circumstances 
described, nature grew strong within her, and that her mind 
caught glimpses, however dim. and indistinct they might be, 
of a truth that the reader has already anticipated. Still, a 
certain and intelligible clue was wanting. Fancy had ever 
painted her child in the innocence and infancy in which it 
had been torn from her arms ; and here, while there was so 
much to correspond with reasonable expectation, there was 
little to answer to the long and fondly cherished picture. 
The delusion, if so holy and natural a feeling may thus be 
termed, had been too deeply seated to be dispossessed at a 
glance. Gazing long, earnestly, and with features that va- 
ried with every changing feeling, she held the stranger at 
the length of her two arms, alike unwilling to release her 
hold, or to admit her closer to a heart which might right- 
fully be the property of another. 

“ Wlio art thou ?” demanded the mother, in a voice that 


THE WEPT OF WISH-T-rON-WISH. 379 

was tremulous with the emotions of that sacred charac- 
ter. “ Speak, mysterious and, lovely being — ^who art 
thou ? ” 

Narra-mattah had turned a terrified and imploring look 
at the immovable and calm form of the chief, as if she sought 
protection from him at whose hands she had been accus- 
tomed to receive it. But a different sensation took posses- 
sion of her mind, when she heard sounds which had too 
often soothed the ear of infancy ever to be forgotten. 
Struggling ceased, and her pliant form assumed the attitude 
of intense and entranced attention. Her head was bent 
aside, as if the ear were eager to drink in a repetition of 
the tones, while her bewildered and delighted eye still 
sought the countenance of her husband. 

“ Vision of the woods ! wilt thou not answer ?” continued 
Ruth. “ If there is reverence for the Holy One of Israel in 
thine heart, answer that I may know thee 1” 

“Hist! Conanchet!” murmured the wife, over whose 
features the glow of pleased and wild surprise continued to 
deepen. “Come near. Sachem, the Spirit that talketh to 
Harra-mattah in her dreams is nigh.” 

“Woman of the Yengeese !” said the husband, advancing 
with dignity to the spot, “ let the clouds blow from thy sight. 
Wife of a Narragansett 1 see clearly. The Manitou of your 
race speaks strong. He telleth a mother to know her 
child!” 

Ruth could hesitate no longer ; neither sound nor excla- 
mation escaped her, but as she strained the yielding frame 
of her recovered daughter to her heart it appeared as if she 
strove to incorporate the two bodies into one. A cry of 
pleasure and astonishment drew all around her. Then came 
thQ evidence of the power of nature when strongly awakened. 
Age and youth alike acknowledged its potency, and recent 
alarms were overlooked in the pure joy of such a moment. 
The spirit of even the lofty-minded Conanchet was shaken. 


380 THE WEPT OF WISH-TOl^-WISH. 


Raising the hand, at whose wrist still hung the bloody toma- 
hawk, he veiled his face, and turning aside, that none might 
see the weakness of so great a warrior, he wept. 



I 




THE WEPT OP W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 381 


CHAPTER XXVI 


“One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 

That is, the madman ; — " 

MrDSTTMMEE NiGHT'S DeEAM. 


On quitting the hill Philip had summoned his Wampa- 
noags, and supported by the obedient and fierce Annawon, 
a savage that might, under better auspices, have proved a 
worthy lieutenant to Caesar, he left the fields of Wish-Ton- 
Wish. Accustomed to see these sudden outhreakings of 
temper in their leaders, the followers of Conanchet, who 
would have preserved their air of composure under far more 
trying circumstances, saw him depart equally without ques- 
tion and without alarm. But when their own Sachem 
appeared on the ground, which was still red with the blood 
of the combatants, and made known his intention to abandon 
a conquest that seemed more than half achieved, he was not 
heard without murmuring. The authority of an Indian 
Chief is far from despotic, and though there is reason to 
think it is often aided, if not generated, by the accidental 
causes of birth and descent, it receives its main support in 
the personal qualities of him who rules. Happily for the 
hTarragansett leader, even his renowned father, the hapless 
Miantonimoh, had not purchased a higher name for wisdom 
or for daring than that which had been fairly won by his 
still youthfal son. The savage humors and the rankling 
desire for vengeance in the boldest of his subalterns were 
made to quail before the menacing glances of an eye that 
seldom threatened without performance ; nor was there one 
of them all, when challenged to come forth to brave the 


382 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

anger or to oppose the eloquence of his chief, who did not 
shrink from a contest which habitual respect had taught 
them to believe would be far too unequal for success. With- 
in less than an hour after Ruth had clasped her child to her 
bosom the invaders had altogether disappeared. The dead 
of their party were withdrawn and concealed with all the 
usual care, in order that no scalp of a warrior might be left 
in the hands of his enemies. 

It was not unusual for the Indians to retire satisfied with 
the results of their first blow. So much of their military 
success was dependent on surprise, that it oftener happened 
the retreat commenced with its failure, than that victory 
was obtained by perseverance. 

So long as the battle raged, their courage was equal to 
all its dangers ; but among people who made so great a 
merit of artifice, it is not at all surprising that they seldom 
put more to the hazard than was justified by the most severe 
discretion. When it was known, therefore, that the foe had 
disappeared in the forest, the inhabitants of the village were 
more ready to believe the movement was the result of their 
own manful resistance, than to seek motives that might not 
prove so soothing to their self-esteem. The retreat was 
thought to be quite in rule, and though prudence forbade 
pursuit, able and well-limbed scouts were sent on their trail, 
as well to prevent a renewal of the surprise, as to enable the 
forces of the Colony to know the tribe of their enemies, 
and the direction which they had taken. 

Then came a scene of solemn ceremonies and of deep 
affliction. Though the parties led by Dudley and the Lieu- 
tenant had been so fortunate as to escape with a few imma- 
terial wounds, the soldiers headed by Content, with the 
exception of those already named, had fallen to a man. 
Death had struck, at a blow, twenty of the most efficient 
individuals, out of that isolated and simple community. 
Under circumstances in which victory was so barren and so 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON- WISH. 383 

dearly bought, sorrow was a feeling far stronger than rejoic- 
ing. Exultation took the aspect of humility, and while men 
were conscious of their well deserving, they were the more 
sensible of their dependence on a power they could neither 
influence nor comprehend. The characteristic opinions of 
the religionists became still more exalted, and the close of 
the day w’as quite as remarkable for an exhibition of the 
peculiarly exaggerated impressions of the Colonists, as its 
opening had been frightful in violence and blood. 

When one of the more active of the runners returned 
with the news that the Indians had retired through the 
forest with a broad trail, a sure sign that they meditated no 
further concealment near the valley, and that they had 
already been traced many miles on their retreat, the villagers 
returned to their usual habitations. The dead were then 
distributed among those who claimed the nearest right to 
the performance of the last duties of affection ; and it might 
have been truly said, that mourning had taken up its abode 
in nearly every dwelling. The ties of blood were so general 
in a society thus limited, and, where they failed, the chari- 
ties of life were so intimate and so natural, that not an indi- 
vidual of them all escaped, without feeling that the events 
of the day had robbed him, for ever, of some one on whom 
he was partially dependent for comfort or happiness. 

As the day drew towards its close, the little bell again 
summoned the congTegation to the church. On this solemn 
occasion, but few of those who still lived to hear its sounds 
were absent. The moment when Meek arose for prayer was 
one of general and intense feeling. The places so lately 
occupied by those who had fallen were now empty, and they 
resembled so many eloquent blanks in the description of 
what had passed, expressing far more than any language 
could impart. The appeal of the divine was in his usual 
strain of sublimated piety, mysterious insights into the hidden 
purposes of Providence being strangely blended with the 


884 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

more intelligible wants and passions of man. While he 
gave Heaven the glory of the victory, he spoke with a lofty 
and pretending humility of the instruments of its power ; 
and although seemingly willing to acknowledge that his 
people abundantly deserved the heavy blow which had 
alighted on them, there was an evident impatience of the 
agents by which it had been inflicted. The principles of 
the sectarian were so singularly qualifled by the feelings of 
the borderer, that one subtle in argument would have found 
little diflSculty in detecting flaws in the reasoning of this 
zealot ; but as so much was obscured by metaphysical mists, 
and so much was left for the generalities of doctrine, his 
hearers, without an exception, made such an application of 
what he uttered, as apparently rendered every mind satis- 
fied. 

The sermon was as extemporaneous as the prayer, if any- 
thing can come extempore from a mind so drilled and for- 
tified in opinion. It contained much the same matter, 
delivered a little less in the form of an apostrophe. The 
stricken congregation, while they were encouraged with the 
belief that they were vessels set apart for some great and 
glorious end of Providence, were plainly told that they 
merited far heavier affliction than this which had now be- 
fallen ; and they were reminded that it was their duty to 
desire even condemnation, that he who framed the heavens 
and the earth might be glorified ! Then they heard com- 
fortable conclusions, which might reasonably teach them to 
expect, that though in the abstract such were the obliga- 
tions of the real Christian, there was good reason to think 
that all who listened to doctrines so pure would be remem- 
bered with an especial favor. 

So useful a servant of the temple as Meek Wolfe did not 
forget the practical application of his subject. It is true, 
that no visible emblem of the cross was shown to excite his 
hearers, nor were they stimulated to loosen blood-hounds on 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 385 


the trail of their enemies ; hut the former was kept suffi- 
ciently before the mind’s eye hy constant allusions to its 
merits, and the Indians were pointed at as the instruments 
by which the great father of evil hoped to prevent “ the 
wilderness from blossoming like the rose,” and “ yielding the 
sweet savors of godliness.” Philip and Conanchet were 
openly denounced by name ; some dark insinuations being 
made, that the person of the former was no more than the 
favorite tenement of Moloch ; while the hearer was left to 
devise a suitable spirit for the government of the physical 
powers of the other, from among any of the more evil 
agencies that were named in the Bible. Any doubts of the 
lawfulness of the contest, that might assail tender conscien- 
ces, were brushed away hy a hold and decided hand. There 
was no attempt at justification, however ; for all difficulties 
of this nature were resolved hy the imperative obligations 
of duty. A few ingenious allusions to the manner in which 
the Israelites dispossessed the occupants of Judea, were of 
great service in this particular part of the subject, since it 
was not difficult to convince men, who so strongly felt the 
impulses of religious excitement, that they were stimulated 
rightfully. Fortified hy this advantage, Mr. Wolfe mani- 
fested no desire to avoid the main question. He affirmed 
that if the empire of the true faith could be established by 
no other means, a circumstance which he assumed it was 
sufficiently apparent to. all understandings could not be done, 
he pronounced it the duty of young and old, the weak and 
the strong, to unite in assisting to visit the former possessors 
of the country with what he termed the wrath of an offend- 
ed Deity. He spoke of the fearful slaughter of the preced- 
ing winter, in which neither years nor sex had been spared, 
as a triumph of the righteous cause, and as an encouragement 
to persevere. Then, by a transition that was not extraordi- 
nary in an age so remarkable for religious subtleties, Meek 
returned to the more mild and obvious truths which pervade 
17 


386 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the doctrines of him whose church he professed to uphold. 
His hearers were admonished to observe lives of humility 
and charity, and were piously dismissed, with his benedic- 
tion, to their several homes. 

The congregation quitted the building with the feelings 
of men who thought themselves favored by peculiar and 
extraordinary intelligences with the author of all truth, while 
the army of Mahomet itself was scarcely less influenced by 
fanaticism than these blinded zealots. There was something 
so grateful to human frailty in reconciling their resentments 
and their temporal interests to their religious duties, that it 
should excite little wonder when we add that most of thein 
were fully prepared to become ministers of vengeance in the 
hands of any bold leader. While the inhabitants of the set- 
tlement were thus strtiggling between passions so contra- 
dictory, the shades of evening gradually fell upon their 
village, and then came darkness, with the rapid strides 
with which it follows the setting of the sun in a low lati- 
tude. 

Some time before the shadows of the trees were getting 
the grotesque and exaggerated forms which precede the last 
rays of the luminary, and while the people were still listen- 
ing to their pastor, a solitary individual was placed on a 
giddy eyrie, whence he might note the movements of those 
who dwelt in the hamlet, without being the subject of obser- 
vation himself. A short spur of the 9iountain projected into 
the valley, on the side nearest to the dwelling of the Heath- 
cotes. A little tumbling brook, which the melting of the 
snows and the occasional heavy rains of the climate peri- 
odically increased into a torrent, had worn a deep ravine in 
its rocky bosom. Time and the constant action of water, 
aided by the driving storms of winter and autumn, had con- 
verted many of the different faces of this ravine into wild- 
looking pictures of the residences of men. There was, how- 
ever, one spot in particular, around which a closer inspection 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 38*7 

than that which the distance of the houses in the settlement 
offered, might have detected far more plausible signs of the 
agency of human hands, than any that were afforded by the 
fancied resemblances of fantastic angles and accidental for- 
mations. 

Precisely at that point where a sweep of the mountain 
permitted the best view of the valley, did the rocks assume 
the wildest, the most confused, and consequently the most 
favorable appearance for the construction of any residence 
which it was desirable should escape the curious eyes of the 
settlers, at the same time that it possessed the advantage of 
overlooking their proceedings. A hermit would have chosen 
the place as a spot suited to distant and calm observation 
of the world, while it was every way adapted to solitary 
reflection and ascetic devotion. All who have journeyed 
through the narrow and water-worn vineyards and meadows 
which are washed by the Rhone, ere that river pours its tri- 
bute into the Lake of Leman, have seen some such site, occu- 
pied by one who has devoted his life to seclusion and the 
altar, overhanging the village of St. Maurice, in the Canton 
of le Valais. But there is an air of obtrusiveness in the 
Swiss hermitage that did not belong to the place of which 
we write, since the one is perched upon its high and narrow 
ledge, as if to show the world in what dangerous and cir- 
cumscribed limits God may be worshipped ; while the other 
sought exemption from absolute solitude, while it courted 
secresy with the most jealous caution. A small hut had 
been erected' against a side of the rock, in a manner that 
presented an oblique angle. Care had been taken to sur- 
round it with such natural objects as left little reason to 
apprehend that its real character could be known by any 
who did not absolutely mount to the difficult shelf on which 
it stood. Light entered into this primitive and humble 
abode by. a window that looked into the ravine, and a low 
door opened on the side next the valley. The construction 


388 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 

was partly of stone and partly of logs, with a roof of bark 
and a chimney of mud and sticks. 

One who, by his severe and gloomy brow, was a fit pos- 
sessor of so secluded a tenement, was, at the hour named, 
seated on a stone at the most salient angle of the mountain, 
and at the place where the eye commanded the widest and 
least obstructed view of the abodes of man in the distance. 
Stones had been rolled together in a manner to form a little 
breastwork in his front, so that had there been any wander- 
ing gaze sweeping over the face of the mountain, it was far 
from probable that it would have detected the presence of a 
man whose whole form, with the exception of the superior 
parts, was so effectually concealed. 

It would have been difiicult to say whether this secluded 
being had thus placed .himself in order to indulge in 
some habitual and fancied communication with the little 
world of the valley, or whether he sat at his post in watch- 
fulness. There was an appearance of each of these occupa- 
tions in his air; for a time his eye Avas melancholy and 
softened, as if his spirit found pleasure in the charities natu- 
ral to the species ; and at others, the brows contracted with 
sternness, while the lips became more than usually com- 
pressed, like those of a man who threw himself on his own 
innate resolution for support. 

The solitude of the place, the air of universal quiet Avhich 
reigned above, the boundless leafy carpet over which the 
eye looked from that elevated point, and the breathing still- 
ness of the bosom of the woods, united to give grandeur to 
the scene. The figure of the tenant of the ravine was as 
immovable as any other object of the view. It seemed, in 
all but color and expression, of stone. An elbow Avas lean- 
ing on the little screen in front, and the head Avas supported 
by a hand. At the distance of an arrow’s flight, the eye 
might readily have supposed it no more than another of the 
accidental imitations Avhich had been worn in the rock by 


THE WEPT or WISH-TON-WISH. 389 


tlie changes of centuries. An hour passed, and scarce a 
limb had been changed or a muscle relieved. Either con- 
templation, or the patient awaiting of some looked for event, 
appeared to suspend the ordinary functions of life. At 
length an interruption occurred to this extraordinary inac- 
tion. A rustling, not louder than that which would have been 
made by the leap of a squirrel, was first heard in the bushes 
above. It was succeeded by a crackling of branches, and 
then a fragment of rock came bounding down the preci- 
pice,' until it shot over the head of the still motionless her- 
mit, and fell, with a noise that drew a succession of echoes 
from the caverns of the place, into the ravine beneath. 

Notwithstanding the suddenness of this interruption and 
the extraordinary fracas with which it was accompanied, he, 
who might be supposed to be most affected by it, manifested 
none of the usual symptoms of fear or surprise. He listened 
intently until the last sound had died away, but it was with 
expectation rather than with alarm. Arising slowly, he 
looked warily about him, and then walking with a quick 
step along the ledge wdiich led to his hut, he disappeared 
through its door. In another minute, however, he was 
again seen at his former post, a short carabine, such as was 
then used by mounted warriors, lying across his knee. If 
doubt or perplexity beset the mind of this individual at so 
palpable a sign that the solitude he courted was in danger 
of being interrupted, it was not of a nature sufficiently 
strong to disturb the equanimity of his aspect. A second 
time the branches rustled, and the sounds proceeded from a 
lower part of the precipice, as if the foot that caused the 
disturbance was in the act of descending. Though no one 
was visible, the nature of the noise could no longer be mis- 
taken. It was evidently the tread of a human foot ; for no 
beast of a weight sufiicient to produce so great an impression, 
would have chosen to rove across a spot where the support 
of hands was nearly as necessary as that of the other limbs. 


390 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ Come forward !” said he who in all hut the accessories 
of dress and hostile preparation might so well be termed a 
hermit — “ I am already here.” 

The words were not given to the air, for one suddenly 
appeared on the ledge at the side next the settlement, and 
within twenty feet of the speaker. When glance met 
glance, the surprise which evidently took possession of the 
intruder and of him who appeared to claim a better right to 
be where they met, seemed mutual. The carabine of the 
latter, and a musket carried by the former, fell into the 
dangerous line of aim at the same instant, and in a moment 
they were thrown upwards again, as if a common impulse 
controlled them. The resident signed to the other to draw 
nigher, and then every appearance of hostility disappeared 
in that sort of familiarity which confidence begets. 

“How is it,” said the former to his guest, when both 
were calmly seated behind the little screen of stones, “ that 
thou hast fallen upon the secret place ? The foot of stranger 
hath not often trod these rocks, and no man before thee 
hath ever descended the precipice.” 

“ A moccasin is sure,” returned the other with Indian 
brevity. “My father hath a good eye. He can see very 
far from the door of his lodge.” 

“ Thou knowest that the men oi my color speak often to 
their Great Spirit, and they do not love to ask his favor in 
the highways. This place is sacred to his ‘holy name” 

The intruder was the young Sachem of the Narragansetts, 
and he who, notwithstanding this plausible apology, so 
palpably sought secresy rather than solitude, was the man 
that has so often been introduced into these pages under the 
shade of mystery. The instant recognition and the mutual 
confidence require no further explanation, since enough has 
already been developed in the course of the narrative, to 
show that they were no strangers to each other. Still the 
meeting had not taken place without uneasiness on the one 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 391 

part, and great though admirably veiled surprise on the 
other. As became his high station and lofty character, the 
bearing of Conaiichet betrayed none of the littleness of a 
vulgar curiosity. He met his ancient acquaintance with the 
calm dignity of his rank, and it would have been difficult 
for the most inquiring eye to have detected a wandering 
glance, a single prying look, or any other sign that he 
deemed the place at all extraordinary for such an interview. 
He listened to the little explanation of the other with grave 
courtesy, and suffered a short time to elapse before he made 
any reply. 

“The Manitou of the pale-men,” he then said, “should be 
pleased with my father. His words are often in the ears of 
the Great Spirit ! The trees and the rocks know them.” 

“Like all of a sinful and fallen race,” returned the 
stranger with the severe air of the age, “ I have much need 
of my askings. But why dost thou think that my voice is 
so often heard in this secret place?” 

The finger of Conanchet pointed to the worn rock at. 
his feet, and his eye glanced furtively at the beaten path 
which led between the spot and the door of the lodge. 

“ A Yeligeese hath a hard heel, but it is softer than stone. 
The hoof of the deer would pass many times to leave such 
a trail.” 

“ Thou art quick of eye, Narragansett, and yet thy judg- 
ment may be deceived. My tongue is not the only one that 
speaketh to the God of my people.” 

The Sachem bent his head slightly, in acquiescence, as if 
unwilling to press the subject. But his companion was not 
so easily satisfied, for he felt the consciousness of a fruitless 
attempt at deception goading him to some plausible means 
of quieting the suspicions of the Indian. 

“ That I am now alone, may be matter of pleasure or of 
accident,” he added ; “thou knowest that this hath been a 
busy and bloody day among the pale-men, and there are 


392 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

dead and dying in their lodges. One who hath no wig- 
wam of his own may have found time to worship by him- 
self.” 

“ The mind is very cunning,” returned Conanchet ; “ it 
can hear when the ear is deaf — it can see when the eye is 
shut. My father hath spoken to the Good Spirit with the 
rest of his tribe.” 

As the chief concluded, he pointed significantly towards 
the distant church, out of which the excited congregation 
we have described was at that moment pouring into the 
green and little-trodden street of the hamlet. The other 
appeared to understand his meaning, and, at the same 
instant to feel the folly, as well as the uselessness, of attempt- 
ing any longer to mislead one that already knew so much 
of his former mode of life. 

“ Indian, thou sayest true,” he rejoined gloomily : “ the 
mind seeth far, and it seeth often in the bitterness of sorrow. 
My spirit was communing with the spirits of those thou 
.seest,- when thy step was first heard ; besides thine own, the 
feet of man never mounted to this place, except it be of 
those who minister to my bodily wants. Thou sayest true ; 
the mental sight is keen ; and far beyond those distant hills, 
on which the last rays of the setting sun are now shining so 
gloriously, doth mine often bear me in spirit. Thou wast 
once my fellow-lodger, youth, and much pleasure had I in 
striving to open thy young mind to the truths of our race, 
and to teach thee to speak with the tongue of a Christian ; 
but years have passed away — hark ! There cometh one up 
the path. Hast thou dread of a Yengeese?” 

The calm mien with which Conanchet had been listening, 
changed to a cold smile. His hand had felt for the lock of 
his musket, some time before his companion had betrayed 
any consciousness of the approaching footstep ; but until 
questioned, no change of countenance was visible. 

“ Is my father afraid for his friend ?” he asked, pointing 


THE’WEPT OP W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 393 


in the direction of him who approached. “ Is it an armed 
warrior ?” 

“ No : he cometh with the means of sustaining a burden 
that must be borne, until it pleaseth him who knoweth what 
is good for all his creatures to ease me of it. It may be 
the parent of her thou hast this day restored to her friends, 
or it may be the brother ; for, at times, I owe this kindness 
to different members of that worthy family.” 

A look of intelligence shot across the swarthy features of 
the chief. His decision appeared taken. Arising, he left 
his weapon at the feet of his companion, and moved swiftly 
along the ledge, as if to meet the intruder. In another 
instant he returned, bearing a little bundle closely enve- 
loped in belts of richly-beaded wampum. Placing the latter 
gently by the side of the old man, for time had changed 
the color of the solitary’s hair to grey, he said, in a low, 
quick voice, pointing with significance at what he had 
done — 

“ The Messenger will not go back with an empty hand. 
My father is wise ; he will say what is good.” 

There was little time for further explanation. The door 
of the hut had scarcely closed on Conanchet, before Mark 
Heath cote appeared at the point where the path bent 
around the angle of the precipice. 

“ Thou knowest what hath passed, and wilt suffer me to 
depart wdth* brief discourse,” said the young man, placing 
food at the feet of him he came to seek ; “ ha ! what hast 
here ? — didst gain this in the fray of the morning ?” 

“ It is booty that I freely bestow ; take it to the house of 
thy father. It is left with that object. Now tell me of the 
manner in which death hath dealt with our people, for thou 
knowest that necessity drove me from among them, so soon 
as liberty was granted.” 

Mark showed no disposition to gratify the other’s wish. 
He gazed on the bundle of Conanchet, as if his eye had 

n* 


394 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

never before looked on a similar object, and keenly con- 
tending passions were playing about a brow that was seldom 
as tranquil as suited the self-denying habits of the times 
and country. 

“ It shall be done, Narragansett !” he said, speaking be- 
tween his clenched teeth ; “ it shall be done !” Then turn- 
ing on his heel, he stalked along the giddy path with a 
rapidity of stride that kept the other in fearful suspense for 
his safety, until his active form had disappeared. 

The recluse arose and sought the occupant of his humble 
abode. 

“ Come forth,” he said, opening the narrow door for the 
passage of the Chief. “ The youth hath departed with thy 
burden, and thou art now alone with an ancient associate.” 

Conanchet reappeared at the summons, but it was with 
an eye less glowing and a brow less stern than when he 
entered the little cabin. As he moved slowly to the stone 
he had before occupied, his step was arrested for a moment, 
and a look of melancholy regret seemed to be cast at the 
spot where he had laid the bundle. Conquering his feel- 
ings, however, in the habitual self-command of his people, 
he resumed his. seat, with the air of one that was grave 
by nature, while he appeared to exert no effort in order to 
preserve the admirable equanimity of his features. A long 
and thoughtful silence succeeded, and then the solitary 
spoke. 

“ We have made a friend of the Narragansett Chief,” he 
said, “ and this league with Philip is broken !” 

“ Yengeese,” returned the other, “ I am full of the blood 
of Sachems.” 

“ Why should the Indian and the white do each other 
this violence ? The earth is large, and there is place for 
men of all colors and of all nations on its surface.” 

“ My father hath found but little,” said the other, bestow- 
ing such a cautious glance at the narrow limits of his host. 


• THE "WEPT OF WISH-TON- WISH. 395 

as at once betrayed the sarcastic purport of bis words, 
while it equally bespoke the courtesy of his mind. 

“ A light-minded and vain prince is seated on the throne 
of a once godly nation, Chief, and darkness has again come 
over a land which of late shone with a clear and shining 
light ! The just are made to flee from the habitations of 
their infancy, and the temples of the elect are abandoned to 
the abominations of idolatry Oh, England ! England ! 
when will thy cup of bitterness be full ? When shall this 
judgment pass from thee? My spirit groan eth over thj^ 
fall ; yea, my inmost soul is saddened with the spectacle of 
thy misery !” 

Conanchet was too delicate to regard the glazed eye and 
flushed forehead of the speaker, but he listened in amaze- 
ment and in ignorance. Such expressions had often met 
his ear before, and though his tender years had probably 
prevented their producing much effect, now that he again 
heard them in his manhood, they conveyed no intelligible 
meaning to his mind. Suddenly laying a finger on the 
knee of his companion, he said — 

“ The arm of my father was raised on the side of the 
Yengeese to-day ; yet they give him no seat at their coun- 
cil-fire r 

“ The sinful man, who ruleth in the island whence my 
people came, hath an arm that is long as his mind is vain. 
Though debarred from the councils of this valley. Chief, 
time hath been when my voice w^as heard in councils that 
struck heavily at the power of his race. These eyes have 
seen justice done on him who gave existence to the double- 
tongued instrument of Belial, that now governeth a rich 
and glorious realm !” 

“ My father hath taken the scalp of a great chief !” 

“ I helped to take his head !” returned the solitary, a ray 
of bitter exultation gleaming through the habitual austerity 
of his brow. 


396 THE WEPT OP WISH-TON - WISH. • 

“ Come ! The eagle flies above the clouds that he may- 
move his wings freely. The panther leaps longest on the 
widest plain ; the biggest fish swim in the deep water. My 
father cannot stretch himselt between these rocks. He is 
too big to lie down in a little wigwam. The woods are 
wide ; let him change the color of his skin, and be a grey- 
head at the council-fire of my nation. The warriors will listen 
to what he says, for his hand hath done a strong deed !” 

“ It may not be — it may not be, Narragansett. That 
which hath been generated in the spirit must abide, and it 
would be ‘ easier for the blackamoor to become white, or 
for the leopard to change his spots,’ than for one who hath 
felt the power of the Lord to cast aside his gifts. But I 
meet thy proffers of amity in a charitable and forgiving 
spirit. My mind is ever with my people ; yet is there 
place for other friendships. Break, then, this league with 
the evil-minded and turbulent Philip, and let the hatchet 
be for ever buried in the path betweeil thy village and the 
towns of the Yengeese.” 

“ Where is my village ? Tliere is a dark place near the 
islands on the shores of the Great Lake ; but I see no lodges.” 

“We will rebuild thy towns, and people them anew. 
Let there be peace between us.” 

“ My mind is ever with my people,” returned the Indian, 
repeating the other’s words with an emphasis that could 
not be mistaken. 

A long and melancholy pause succeeded ; and when the 
conversation was renewed, it had reference to those events 
which had taken place in the fortunes of each since the 
time when they were both tenants of the block-house that 
stood amid the ancient habitations of the Heathcotes. Each 
appeared too well to comprehend the character of the other 
to attempt any further efforts towards producing a change 
of purpose ; and darkness had gathered about the place 
before they arose to enter the hut of the solitary. 


TaE WEPT OF WISn-TON-WISII. 3lf7 


CHAPTER XXVIT. 

“ Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot 
A father to me ; and thou hast created 
A mother and two brothers.” 

Cymbeline. 

The short twilight was already passed when old Mark 
Heathcote ended the evening prayer. The mixed character 
of the remarkable events of that day had given birth to a 
feeling which could find no other relief than that which 
flowed from the usual zealous, confiding, and exalted out- 
pouring of the spirit. On the present occasion he had even 
resorted to an extraordinary, and what one less devout might 
be tempted to think, a supererogatory offering of thanks- 
giving and praise. After dismissing the attendants of the 
establishment, supported by the arm of his son, he had with- 
drawn into an inner apartment, and there, surrounded only 
by those who had the nearest claims on his affections, the old 
man again raised his voice, to laud the Being who, in the 
midst of so much general grief, had deigned to look upon 
his particular race with the eyes of remembrance and of 
favor. He spoke of his recovered grandchild by name, .and 
he dealt with the whole subject of her captivity among the 
heathen, and her restoration to the foot of the altar, v.dth 
’ the fervor of one who saw the wise decrees of Providence 
in the event, and with the tenderness of sentiment that age 
was far from having extinguished. It was at the close of 
this private and peculiar worship, that we return into the 
presence of the family. 

The spirit of reform had driven those who so violently 


398 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S Af .. 

felt its influence into many usages that, to say the least, 
were quite as ungracious to the imagination, as the customs 
they termed idolatrous were obnoxious to the attacks of their 
own unaccommodating theories. The first Protestants had 
expelled so much from the service of the altar, that little was 
left for the Puritan to destroy, without incurring the risk of 
leaving it naked of its loveliness. By a strange substitution 
of subtlety for humility, it was thought pharisaical to bend 
the knee in public, lest the great essential of spiritual wor- 
ship might he supplanted by the more attainable merit of 
formula ; and while rigid aspects and prescribed deportments 
of a new character, were observed with all the zeal of con- 
verts, ancient and even natural practices were condemned — 
chiefly, we believe, from that necessity of innovation which 
appears to be an unavoidable attendant of all plans of im- 
provement, whether they are successful or the reverse. But 
though the Puritans refused to bow their stubborn limbs 
when the eye of man was on them, even while asking boons 
suited to their own sublimated opinions, it was permitted to 
assume in private an attitude which was thought to admit 
of so gross an abuse, inasmuch as it infers a claim to a religious 
vitality, while in truth the soul might only be slumbering in 
the security of mere moral pretension. 

On the present occasion, they w'ho worshipped in secret 
had bent their bodies to the humblest posture of devotion. 
When Ruth Heathcote arose from her knees, it was with a 
hand clasped in that of the child whom her recent devotion 
was well suited to make her think had been rescued from a 
condition far more gloomy than that of the grave. She had 
used a gentle violence to force the wondering being at her * 
side to join, so far as externals could go, in the prayer ; and 
now it was ended, she .sought the countenance of her 
daughter, in order to read the' impression the scene had pro- 
duced, with all the solicitude of a Christian, heightened by 
the tenderest maternal love. 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 


399 


Narra-raattali, as we shall continue to call her, in air, ex- 
pression, and attitude, resembled one who had a fancied 
existence in the delusion of some exciting dream. Her ear 
remembered sounds which had so often been repeated in her 
infancy, and her memory recalled indistinct recollections of 
most of the objects and usages that were so suddenly replaced 
before her eyes ; but the former now conveyed their mean- 
ing to a mind that had gained its strength under a very 
different system of theology, and the latter came too late 
to supplant usages that were rooted in her affections by the 
aid of all those wild and seductive habits, that are known to 
become nearly unconquerable in those who have long been 
subject to their influence. She stood, therefore, in the 
centre of the grave, self-restrained group of her nearest kin, 
like an alien to their blood, resembling some timid and but 
half-tamed tenant of the air, that human art had endeavored 
to domesticate, by placing it in the society of the more 
tranquil and confiding inhabitants of the aviary. 

Notwithstanding the strength of her affections, and her 
devotion to all the natural duties of her station, Kuth Heath- 
cote was not now to learn the manner in which she was to 
subdue any violence in their exhibition. The first indulgence 
of joy and gratitude was over, and in its place appeared the 
never-tiring, vigilant, engrossing, but regulated watchfulness, 
which the events would naturally create. The doubts, 
misgivings, and even fearful apprehensions that beset her, 
were smothered in an appearance of satisfaction ; and some- 
thing like gleamings of happiness were again seen playing 
about a brow that had so long been clouded with an unob- 
trusive but corroding care. 

“ And thou recallest thine infancy, my Ruth ? ” asked the 
mother, when the respectful period of silence which ever 
succeeded prayer in that family was passed ; “ thy thoughts 
have not been altogether strangers to us, but nature hath 
had its place in thy heart. Tell us, child, of thy wander- 


400 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

ings in the forest, and of the sufferings that one so tender 
must have undergone among a barbarous people. There is 
pleasure in listening to all thou hast seen and felt, now that 
we know there is an end to unhappiness.” 

She spoke to an ear that was deaf to language like this. 
Narra-mattah evidently understood her words, while their 
meaning was wrapped in an obscurity that she was neither 
desirous nor capable of comprehending. Keeping a gaze, 
in . which pleasure and wonder were powerfully blended, 
on that soft look of affection which beamed from her 
mother’s eye, she felt hurriedly among the folds of her dress, 
and drawing a belt that was gaily ornamented after the most 
ingenious fashion of her adopted people, she approached her 
half-pleased, half-distressed parent, and with hands that 
trembled equally with timidity and pleasure, she arranged it 
around her person in a manner to show its richness to the 
best advantage. Pleased with her performance, the artless 
being eagerly sought approbation in eyes that bespoke little 
else than regret. Alarmed at an expression she could not 
translate, the gaze of Narra-mattah Wandered, as if it sought 
support against some sensation to which she was a stranger. 
Whittal King had stolen into the room, and missing the 
customary features of her own cherished home, the looks of 
the startled creature rested on the countenance of the wit- 
less wanderer. She pointed eagerly at the work of her 
hands, appealing by an eloquent and artless gesture to the 
taste of one who should know whether she had done well. 

“ Bravely !” returned Whittal, approaching nearer to the 
subject of his admiration — “ ’tis a brave belt, and none but 
the wife of a Sachem could make so rare a gift !” 

The girl folded her arms meekly on her bosom, and again 
appeared satisfied with herself and with the world. 

“ Here is the hand of him visible who dealeth in all 
wickedness,” said the Puritan. “ To corrupt the heart 
with vanities, and to mislead the affections by luring them 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 401 


to tlie things, of life, is the guile in which he delighteth. 
A fallen nature lendeth hut too ready aid. We must deal 
with the child in fervor and watchfulness, or better that her 
bones were lying by the side of those little ones of thy 
flock, who are already inheritors of the promise.” 

Respect kept Ruth silent ; but while she sorrowed over 
the ignorance of her child, natural affection was strong at 
her heart. With the tact of a woman and the tenderness 
of a mother, she both saw and felt that severity was not the 
means to effect the improvement they desired. Taking a 
seat herself, she drew her child to her person, and first 
imploring silence by a glance at those around her, she pro- 
ceeded, in a manner that was dictated by the mysterious 
influence of nature, to fathom the depth of her daughter’s 
mind. 

“ Come nearer, Narra-mattah,” she said, using the name 
to which the other would alone answer. “ Thou art still in 
thy youth, my child ; but it hath pleased him whose will is 
law, to have made thee the witness of many changes in this 
varying life. Tell me if thou recallest the days of infancy, 
and if, thy thoughts ever returned to thy father’s house, 
during those weary years thou wast kept from our view ?” 

Ruth used gentle force to draw her daughter nearer 
while speaking, and the latter sank into that posture from 
which she had just arisen, kneeling, as she had often done 
in infancy, at her mother’s side. The attitude was too full 
of tender recollections not to be grateful, and the half- 
alarmed being of the forest was suffered to retain it during 
most of the dialogue that followed. But while she was 
thus obedient in person, by the vacancy or rather wonder of 
an eye that was so eloquent to express all the emotions and 
knowledge of wdiich she was the mistress, Narra-mattah 
plainly manifested that little more than the endeaiment of 
her mother’s words and manner was intelligible. Ruth saw 
the meaning of her hesitation, and smothering the pang it 


402 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

caused, she endeavored to adapt her language to the habits 
of one so artless. 

“ Even the grey heads ^of thy people were once young,” 
she resumed ; “ and they remember the lodges of their 
fathers. Does my daughter ever think of the time when 
she played among the children of the Pale-faces ?” 

The attentive being at the knee of Ruth listened greedily. 
Her knowledge of the language of her childhood had been 
sufficiently implanted before her captivity, and it had been 
too often exercised by intercourse with the whites, and 
more particularly with Whittal Ring, to leave her in any 
doubt of the meaning of what she now heard. Stealing a 
timid look over a shoulder, she sought the countenance of 
Martha, and studying her lineaments for near a minute with 
intense regard, she laughed aloud in the contagious merri- 
ment of an Indian girl. * 

“ Thou hast not forgotten us ! That glance at her who 
was the companion of thy infancy assures me, and we shall 
soon again possess our Ruth in affection as we now possess 
her in the body. I will not speak to thee of that fearful 
night when the violence of the savage robbed us of thy pre- 
sence, nor of the bitter sorrow which beset us at thy loss ; 
but there is one who must still be known to thee, my child ; 
He who sittetjS above the clouds, who holdeth the earth in 
the hollow of his hand, and who looketh in mercy on all 
that journey on the path to which his own finger pointeth. 
Hath he yet a place in thy thoughts? Thou rememberest 
His Holy Name, and still thinkest of his power?” 

The listener bent her head aside, as if to catch the full 
meaning of what she heard, the shadows of deep reverence 
passing over a face that had so lately been smiling. After 
a pause she audibly murmured the word — 

“ Manitou.” 

“ Manitou, or Jehovah ; God, or King of Kings, and Lord 
of Lords ! it mattereth little which term is used to express 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 403 

his power. Thou knowest him then, and hast never ceased 
to call upon his name ?’ 

“ Narra-mattah is a woman. She is afraid to speak to 
the Manitou aloud. He knows the voices of the chiefs, and 
opens his ears when they ask help.” 

The Puritan groaned, but Ruth succeeded in quelling her 
own anguish, lest she should disturb the reviving confidence 
of her daughter. 

“ This may be the Manitou of an Indian,” she said, “ but 
it is not the Christian’s God. Thou art of a race which 
worships differently, and it is proper that thou shouldst call 
on the name of the Deity of thy fathers. Even the Naira- 
gansett teacheth this truth ! Thy skin is white, and thy ears 
should hearken to the traditions of the men of thy blood.” 

The head of the daughter drooped at this allusion to her 
color, as if she would fain conceal the mortifying truth 
from every eye ; but she had not time for answer ere 
Whittal Ring drew near, and pointing to the burning color 
of her cheeks, that were deepened as much wdth shame as 
with the heats of an American sun, he said — 

“ The wife of the Sachem hath begun to change. She 
will soon be like Nipset — all red. See,” he added, laying a 
finger on a part of his own arm, where the sun and the 
winds had not yet destroyed the original cofcr; “the Evil 
Spirit poured water into his blood too, but it wdll come out 
again. As soon as he is so dark that the Evil Spirit will 
not know him, he will go on the war-path, and them the 
lying Pale-faces may dig up the bones of their fathers and 
move towards the sun-rise, or his lodge will be lined with 
hair of the color of a deer !” 

“ And thou, my daughter ! canst thou hear this threat 
against the people of thy nation — of thy blood — of thy 
God, without a shudder ?” 

The eye of Narra-mattah seemed in doubt; still it 
regarded Whittal with its accustomed look of kindness. 


404 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

The innocent, full of his imaginary glory, raised his hand 
in exultation, and by gestures that could not easily be mis- 
understood, he indicated the manner in which he intended 
to rob his victims of the usual trophy. AYhile the youth 
was enacting the disgusting but expressive pantomime, Ruth 
watched the countenance of her child in nearly breathless 
agony. She would have been relieved by a single glance 
of disapprobation, by a solitary movement of a rebellious 
muscle, or by the smallest sign that the tender nature of 
one so lovely, and otherwise so gentle, revolted at so 
unequivocal evidence of the barbarous practices of her 
adopted people. But no empress of Rome could have wit- 
nessed the dying agonies of the hapless gladiator, no con- 
sort of a more modern prince could read the bloody list of 
the victims of her husband’s triumph, nor any betrothed 
fair listen to the murderous deeds of him her imagination 
had painted as a hero, with less indifference to human suf- 
fering, tlian that with which the wife of the Sachem of the 
Narragansetts looked on the mimic representation of those 
exploits which had purchased for her husband a renown so 
liighly prized. It was but too apparent that the representa- 
tion, rude and savage as it was, conveyed to her mind 
nothing but pictures in which the chosen companion of a 
warrior should rejoice. The varying features and answering 
eye too plainly proclaimed the sympathy of one taught to 
exult in the success of the combatant ; and when AYhittal, 
excited by his own exertions, broke out into an exhibition 
of a violence more ruthless even than common, he was 
openly rewarded by another laugh. The soft, exquisitely 
feminine tones of this involuntary burst of pleasure sounded 
in the ears of Ruth like a knell over the moral beauty of 
her child. Still subduing her feelings, she passed a hand 
thoughtfully over her own pallid brow, and appeared to 
muse long on the desolation of a mind that had once pro- 
mised to be so pure. 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 405 

The colonists had not yet severed all those natural ties 
which hound them to the eastern hemisphere. Their le- 
gends, their pride, and in many instances their memories, 
aided in keeping alive a feeling of amity, and it might he 
added of faith, in favor of the land of their ancestors. With 
some of their descendants, even to the present hour, the heau- 
ideal of excellence, in all that pertains to human qualities 
and human happiness, is connected with the images of the 
country from which they sprang. Distance is known to 
cast a softening mist, equally over the moral and physical 
vision. The hlue outline of mountain which melts into its 
glowing background of sky, is not more pleasing than the 
pictures which fancy sometimes draws of less material 
things ; hut, as he comes near, the disappointed traveller too 
often finds nakedness and defonnity, where he so fondly 
imagined heauty only w'as to he seen. No wonder then that 
the dwellers of the simple provinces of New-England blend- 
ed recollections of the country they still called home, with 
most of their poetical pictures of life. They retained the 
language, the hooks, and most of the habits, of the English. 
But different circumstances, divided interests, and peculiar 
opinions, were gradually beginning to open those breaches 
which time has since widened, and which promise soon to 
leave little in common between the two people, except the 
same forms of speech and a common origin ; it is to be 
hoped that some charity may be blended with these ties. 

The singularly restrained habits of the religionists, 
throuo-hout the whole of the British provinces, were in 
marked opposition to the mere embellishments of life. The 
arts were permitted only as they served its most useful and 
obvious purposes. With them, music was confined to the 
worship of God, and, for a long time after the original set- 
tlement, the song was never known to lead the mind astray 
from what was conceived to be the one great object of ex- 
istence. No verse was sung, but such as blended holy ideas 


406 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

with the pleasures of harmony ; nor were the sounds of 
revelry ever heard within their borders. Still, words adapt- 
ed to their particular condition had come into use, and 
though poetry was neither a common nor a brilliant pro- 
perty of the mind, among a people thus disciplined in ascetic 
practices, it early exhibited its power in quaint versification, 
that was always intended, though with a success it is almost 
pardonable to doubt, to redound to the glory of the Deity. 
It was but a natural enlargement of this pious practice, to 
adapt some of these spiritual songs to the purposes of the 
nursery. 

When Ruth Heathcote passed her hand thoughtfully 
across her brow, it was with a painful conviction that her 
dominion over the mind of her child was sadly weakened, if 
not lost for ever. But the efibrts of maternal love are not 
easily repulsed. An idea flashed upon her brain, and she 
proceeded to try the efficacy of the experiment it suggest- 
ed. Nature had endowed her with a melodious voice, and 
an car that taught her to regulate sounds in a manner that 
seldom failed to touch the heart. She possessed the genius 
of music, which is melody, unweakened by those exaggerated 
affectations with which it is often encumbered by what is 
pretendingly called science. DraAving her daughter nearer 
to her knee, she commenced one of the songs then much 
used by the mothers of the Colony, her voice scarcely rising 
above the Avhispering of the evening air, in its first notes, 
but gradually gaining, as she proceeded, the richness and 
compass that a strain so simple required. 

At the first Ioav breathing notes of this nursery song, 
Narra-mattah became as motionless as if her rounded and 
unfettered form had been wrought in marble. Pleasure 
lighted her eyes, as strain succeeded strain ; and ere the 
second verse was ended, her look, her attitude, and every 
muscle of her ingenuous features, were eloquent in the 
expression of delight. Ruth did not hazard the experiment 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISII. 407 

without trembling for its result. Emotion imparted feeling 
to tlie musie, and when, for tlie third time in the course of her 
song, she addressed her child, she saw the soft blue eyes that 
gazed wistfully on her face swimming in tears. Encouraged 
by this unequivocal evidence of success, nature grew still 
more powerful in its efforts, and the closing verse Avas sung 
to an ear that nestled near her heart, as it had often done 
during the early years of Narra-mattah while listening to its 
melancholy melody. 

Content was a quiet but an anxious witness of this touch- 
ing evidence of a reviving intelligence between his wife and 
child. lie best understood the look that beamed in the 
eyes of the former, Avhile her arms were, with extreme cau- 
tion, folded around her Avho still leaned upon her bosom, as 
if fearful one so timid might be frightened from her security 
by any sudden or unaccustomed interruption. A minute 
passed in the deepest silence. Even Whittal Ring was lull- 
ed into quiet, and long and sorrowing years liad passed 
since Ruth enjoyed moments of happiness so pure and un- 
alloyed. The stillness was broken by a heavy step in!*the 
outer room ; a door Avas thrown open by a hand more vio- 
lent than common, and then young Mark appeared, his face 
flushed Avith exertion, his brow seemingly retaining the 
froAvn of battle, and Avith a tread that betrayed a spirit 
goaded by some fierce and unwelcome passion. The bur- 
den of Conanchet was on his arm. He laid it upon a table ; 
then pointing, in a manner that appeared to challenge 
attention, he turned, and left the room as abruptly as he had 
entered. 

A cry of joy burst from the lips of Harra-mattah, the in- 
stant the beaded belts caught her eye. The arms of Ruth 
relaxed their hold in surprise, and before amazement had 
time to give place to more connected ideas, the wild being 
at her knee had floAvn to the table, returned, resumed her 
former posture, opened the folds of the cloth, and was hold- 


408 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

ing before the bewildered gaze of her mother the patient 
features of an Indian babe. 

It would exceed the powers of the unambitious pen we 
wield, to convey to the reader a just idea of the mixed emo- 
tions that struggled for mastery in the countenance of Ruth. 
The innate and never-dying sentiment of maternal joy was 
opposed by all those feelings of pride, that prejudice could 
not fail to implant even in the bosom of one so meek. There 
was no need to tell the history of the parentage of the little 
suppliant, who already looked up into her face with that 
peculiar calm which renders his race so remarkable. Though 
its glance was weakened by infancy, the dark glittering eye 
of Conanchet was there ; there were also to be seen the re- 
ceding forehead and the compressed lip of the father ; but 
all these marks of his origin were softened by touches of 
that beauty which had rendered the infancy of her own 
child so remarkable. 

“ See !” said Narra-mattah, raising the infant still nearer 
to the riveted gaze of Ruth ; “’tis a Sachem of the red men ! 
Thf little eagle hath left his nest too soon.” 

Ruth could not resist the appeal of her beloved. Bending 
her head low, so as entirely to conceal her own flushed face, 
she imprinted a kiss on the forehead of the Indian boy. 
But the jealous eye of the young mother was not to be 
deceived. Narra-mattah detected the difference between the 
cold salute and those fervent embraces she had herself 
received, and disappointment produced a chill about her 
own heart. Replacing the folds of the cloth with quiet 
dignity, she arose from her knees and withdrew in sadness 
to a distant corner of the room. There she took a seat, and 
with a glance that might almost be termed reproachful, she 
commenced a low Indian song to her infant. 

“ The wisdom of Providence is in this as in all its dispensa- 
tions,” whispered Content over the shoulder of his nearly 
insensible partner. “ Had we received her as she was lost. 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 409 

the favor might have exceeded our deservings. Our daugh- 
ter is grieved that thou turnest a cold eye on her babe.” 

The appeal was sufficient for one whose affections had 
been wounded rather than chilled. It recalled Ruth to 
recollection, and it served at once to dissipate the shades of 
regret that had been unconsciously permitted to gather, 
around her brow. The displeasure, or it would be more 
true to term it sorrow, of the young mother was easily 
appeased. A smile on her infant brought the blood back to 
her heart in a swift and tumultuous current ; and Ruth her- 
self soon forgot that she had any reason for regret in the 
innocent delight with which her own daughter now hastened 
to display the physical excellence of the boy. From this 
scene of natural feeling. Content was too quickly summoned 
by the intelligence that some one without awaited his pre- 
sence on business of the last importance to the welfare of 
the settlement. 


18 


410 THE WEPT OF W I S II - T O N - W I S H . 


CHAPTER XXYIII. 

“ It will have blood ; they say, blood 
Will have blood 1” 

Macbeth. 

The visitors were Dr. Ergot, the Reverend Meek Wolfe, 
Ensign Dudley, and Reuben Ring. Content found these 
four individuals seated in an outer room, in a grave and 
restrained manner, that would have done no discredit to the 
self-command of an Indian council. He was saluted with 
those staid and composed greetings which are still much 
used in the intercourse of the people of the Eastern States 
of this Republic, and which have obtained for them a repu- 
tation, where they are little known, of a want of the more 
active charities of our nature. But that was peculiarly the 
age of sublimated doctrines, of self-mortification, and of 
severe moral government, and most men believed it a merit 
to exhibit, on all occasions, the dominion of the mind over 
the mere animal impulses. The usage, which took its rise 
in exalted ideas of spiritual perfection, has since grown into 
a habit, which, though weakened by the influence of the 
age, still exists to a degree that often leads to an erroneous 
estimate of character. 

At the entrance of the master of the house, there was 
some such decorous silence as that which is known to pre- 
cede the communications of the aborigines. At length Ensign 
Dudley, in whom matter, most probably in consequence of 
its bulk, bore more than an usual proportion to his less 
material part, manifested some evidences of impatience that 
the divine should proceed to business. Thus admonished. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 411 


or possibly conceiving that a sufficient concession had been 
made to the dignity of man’s nature, Meek opened his 
mouth to speak. 

“ Captain Content Heathcote,” he commenced, with that 
mystical involution of his subject which practice had ren- 
dered nearly inseparable from all his communications ; “ Cap- 
tain Content Heathcote, this hath been a day of awful visi- 
tations, and of gracious temporal gifts. The heathen hath 
been smitten severely by the hand of the believer, and the 
believer hath been made to pay the penalty of his want of 
faith, by the infliction of a savage agency. Azazel hath 
been loosened in our village, the legions of wickedness have 
been suffered to go at large in our fields, and yet the Lord 
hath remembered his people, and hath borne them through 
a trial of blood as perilous as was the passage of his chosen 
nation through the billows of the Red Sea. There is cause 
of mourning, and cause of joy, in this manifestation of his 
will; of sorrow that we have merited his anger, and of 
rejoicing that enough of redeeming grace hath been found 
to save the Gomorrah of our hearts. But I speak to one 
trained in spiritual discipline, and schooled in the vicissi- 
tudes of the world, and further discourse is not necessary to 
quicken his apprehension. We will therefore turn to more 
instant and temporal exercises. Have all of thy household 
escaped unharmed throughout the strivings of this bloody 
day ?” 

“We praise the Lord that such hath been his pleasure,” 
returned Content. “Other than as sorrow hath assailed us 
through the mourning of friends, the blow hath fallen lightly 
on me and mine.’’ 

“ Thou hast had thy season ; the parent ceaseth to chastise, 
while former punishments are remembered. But here is 
Sergeant Ring, with matter to communicate, that may still 
leave business for thy courage and thy wisdom.” 

Content turned his quiet look upon the yeoman, and 


412 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T 0 N - W I S H . 


Beemed to await his speech. Reuben Ring, who was a man 
of many solid and valuable qualities, would most probably 
have been exercising the military functions of his brother- 
in-law at that very moment, had he been equally gifted 
with a fluent discourse. But his feats lay rather in doing 
than in speaking, and the tide of popularity had in conse- 
quence set less strongly in his favor than might have hap- 
pened had the reverse been the case. The present, however, 
was a moment when it was necessary to overcome his natu- 
ral reluctance to speak, and it was not long before he replied 
to the inquiring glance of his commander’s eye. 

“ The Captain knows the manner in which we scourged 
the savages at the southern end of the valley,” the sturdy 
yeoman began, “ and it is not necessary to deal with the 
particulars at length. There were six-and-twenty red-skins 
slain in the meadows, besides as many more that left the 
ground in the arms of their friends. As for the people, 
we got a few hurts, but each man came back on his own 
limbs.” 

“This is much as the matter hath been reported.” 

“ Then there was a party sent to brush the woods on the 
trail of the Indians,” resumed Reuben, without appearing to 
regard the interruption. “ The scouts broke ofi* in pairs in 
the duty, and finally men got to searching singly, of which 
number I was one. The two men of whom there is ques- 
tion ” 

“Of what men dost speak?” demanded Content. 

“ The two men of whom there is question,” returned the 
other, continuing the direct course of his own manner of 
relating events, without appearing to see the necessity of 
connecting the threads of his communication ; “ the men of 
whom I have spoken to the Minister and the. Ensign 

“ Proceed,” said Content, who understood his man. 

“ Aftei one of these men was brought to his end, I saw no 
reason for making the day bloodier than it already was, the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 413 

more especially as the Lord had caused it to begin with a 
merciful hand which shed its bounties on my own dwelling. 
Under such an opinion of right-doing, the other was bound 
and led into the clearings.” 

“ Thou hast made a captive?” 

The lips of Reuben scarce severed as he muttered a low 
assent ; but the Ensign Dudley took upon himself the duty 
of entering into further explanations, which the point where 
his kinsman left the narrative enabled him to do with suffi- 
cient intelligence. 

“As the Sergeant hath related,” he said, “one of the 
heathen fell, and the other is now without, awaiting a judg- 
ment in the matter of his fortune.” 

“ I trust there is no wish to harm him,” said Content, 
glancing an eye uneasily around at his companions. “ Strife 
hath done enough in our settlement this day. The Sergeant 
hath a right to claim the scalp-bounty, for the man that is 
slain ; but for him that liveth, let there be mercy !” 

“Mercy is a quality of heavenly origin,” replied Meek 
Wolfe, “ and it should not be perverted to defeat the purpo- 
ses of heavenly wisdom. Azazel must not triumph, though 
the tribe of the Narragansetts should be swept with the 
besom of destruction-. Truly, we are an erring and a fallible 
race. Captain Heathcote ; and the greater, therefore, the 
necessity that we submit, without rebellion, to the inward 
monitors that are implanted, by grace, to teach us the road 
of our duty 

“ I cannot consent to shed blood, now that the f trife hath 
ceased,” hastily interrupted Content. “ Praised be Provi- 
dence ! we are victors ; and it is time to lean to counsels of 
charity.” 

“Such are the deceptions of a short-sighted wisdom!” 
returned the divine, his dim, sunken eye shining with the 
promptings of an exaggerated and subtle spirit. “ The end 
of all is good, and we may not, without mortal danger, pre- 


414 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON -WISH. 

sume to doubt the suggestions of heavenly gifts. But there 
is no question here concerning the execution of the captive, 
since he proffereth to be of service in far greater things than 
any that can depend on his life or his death. The heathen 
rendered up his liberty with little struggle, and hath propo- 
sitions that may lead us to a profitable conclusion of this 
day’s trials.” 

“ If he can aid in aught that shall shorten the perils and 
wantonness of this ruthless war, he shall find none better 
disposed to listen than I.” 

“ He professeth ability to do that service.” 

“ Then, of Heaven’s mercy ! let him be brought forth, 
that we counsel on his proposals.” 

Meek made a gesture to Sergeant Ring, who quitted the 
apartment for a moment, and shortly after returned followed 
by his captive. The Indian was one of those dark and 
malignant-looking savages that possess most of the sinister 
properties of their condition, with few or none of the re- 
deeming qualities. His eye was lowering and distrustful, 
bespeaking equally apprehension and revenge ; his form of 
that middling degree of perfection which leaves as little to 
admire as to condemn, and his attire such as denoted him 
one who might be ranked among the warriors of a secondary 
class. Still, in the composure of his mien, the tranquillity 
of his step, and the self-possession of all his movements, he 
displayed that high bearing, his people rarely fail to exhibit, 
ere too much intercourse with the whites begins to destroy 
their disti ictive traits. 

“ Here is the Narragansett,” said Reuben Ring, causing 
his prisoner to appear in the centre of the room ; “ he is no 
chief, as may be gathered from his uncertain look.” 

“ If he effect that of which there hath been question, his 
rank mattereth little. We seek to stop the currents of 
blood that flow like running water, in these devoted 
Colonies.” 


THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 415 

“ This will he do,” rejoined the divine, “ or we shall hold 
him answerable for breach of promise.” 

“And in what doth he profess to aid in stopping the work 
of death ? ” 

“ yielding the fierce Philip, and his savage ally, the 
roving Conanchet, to the judgment. Those chiefs destroyed, 
our temple may be entered in peace, and the voice of thanks- 
giving shall again rise in our Bethel, without the profane 
interruption of savage shrieks.” 

Content started, and even recoiled a step, as he listened 
to the nature of the proposed peace-ofifering. 

“ And have we warranty for such a proceeding, should this 
man prove true ? ” he asked, in a voice that sufficiently 
denoted his own doubts of the propriety of such a measure. 

“ There is the law, the necessities of a suffering nature, 
and God’s glory, for our justification,” drily returned the 
divine. 

“ This outsteppeth the discreet exercise of a delegated 
authority. I like not to assume so great power, without 
written mandates for its execution.” 

“ Tlie objection hath raised a little diflSculty in my own 
mind,” observed Ensign Dudley ; “ and as it hath set 
thoughts at work, it is possible that what I have to oflfer 
will meet the Captain’s good approbation.” 

Content knew that his ancient servitor was, though often 
uncouth in its exhibition, at the bottom a man of humane 
heart. On the other hand, while he scarce admitted the 
truth to himself, he had a secret dread of the exaggerated 
sentiments of his spiritual guide ; and he consequently -listen- 
ed to the interruption of Eben with a gratification he 
scarcely wished to conceal. 

“ Speak openly,” he said ; “ when men counsel in a matter 
of this weight, each standeth on the, surety of his proper 
gifts.” ^ ^ ■ 

“ Then may this business be dispatched without the em- 


416 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

barrassment the Captain seems to oread. We have an 
Indian, who offers to lead a party through the forests to the 
haunts of the bloody chiefs, therein bringing affairs to the 
issue of manhood and discretion.” 

“ And wherein do you propose any departure from the 
suggestions that have already been made ? ” 

Ensign Dudley had not risen to his present rank without 
acquiring a suitable portion of the reserve which is so often 
found to dignify official sentiments. Having ventured the 
opinion already placed, however vaguely, before his hearers, 
he was patiently awaiting its effects on the mind of his 
superior, when the latter, by his earnest and unsuspecting 
countenance, no less than by the question just given, showed 
that he was still in the dark as to the expedient the subal- 
tern wished to suggest. 

“I think there will be no necessity for making more 
captives,” resumed Eben, “ since the one we have appears to 
create difficulties in our councils. If there be any law in 
the Colony which says that men must strike with a gentle 
hand in open battle, it is a law but little spoken of in com- 
mon discourse ; and though no pretender to the wisdom of 
legislators, I will make bold to add, it is a law that may as 
well be forgotten until this outbreaking of the savages shall 
be quelled.” 

“We deal with an enemy that never stays his hand at 
the cry of mercy,” observed Meek Wolfe, “ and though 
charity be the fruit of Christian qualities, there is a duty 
greater than any which belongeth to earth. We are no 
more than weak and feeble instruments in the hands of 
Providence, and as such our minds should not be hardened 
to our inward prornptings. If evidence of better feeling 
could be found in the deeds of the heathen, we might raise 
our hopes to the completion of things ; but the Powers of 
Darkness still rage in their hearts, and we are taught to 
believe that the tree is known by its fruits.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 41.7 

Content signed to all to await his return, and left the 
room. In another minute he was seen leading his daughter 
into the centre of the circle. The half-alarmed young 
woman clasped her swaddled boy to her bosom, as she 
gazed timidly at the grave faces of the borderers ; and her 
eye recoiled in fear, when its hurried glance met the sunken, 
glazed, excited, and yet equivocal-looking organ of the 
Reverend Mr. Wolfe. 

“ Thou hast said that the savage never hearkens to the 
cry of mercy,” resumed Content ; “ here is living evidence 
that thou hast spoken in error. The misfortune that early 
befell my family is not unknown to any in this settlement ; 
thou seest in this trembling creature the daughter of our 
love — her we have so long mourned. The wept of my house- 
hold is again with us ; our hearts have been oppressed, they 
are now gladdened. God hath returned our child ! ” 

There was a deep, rich pathos in the tones of the father 
that affected most of his auditors, though each manifested 
his sensibilities in a manner suited to his peculiar habits of 
mind. The nature of the divine was touched, and all the 
energies of his severe principles were wanting to sustain him 
above the manifestation of a weakness that he might have 
believed derogatory to his spiritual exaltation of character. 
He therefore sat mute, with hands folded on his knee, be- 
traying the struggles of an awakened sympathy only by a 
firmer compression of the interlocked fingers, and an occa- 
sional and involuntary movement of the stronger muscles 
of the face. - Dudley suffered a smile of pleasure to lighten 
his broad, open countenance ; and the physician, who had 
hitherto been merely a listener, uttered a few low syllables 
of admiration of the physical perfection of the being before 
him, with which there was mingled some evidence of natural 
good feeling. 

Reuben Ring was the only individual who openly betrayed 
the whole degree of the interest he took in the restoration 
18 ^ 


418 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

of the lost female. The stout yeoman arose, and moving 
to the entranced Narra-mattah, he took the infant into his 
large hands, and for a moment the honest borderer gazed at 
the boy with a wistful and softened eye. Then raising the 
diminutive face of the infant to his own expanded and bold 
features, he touched his cheek with his lips, and returned 
the babe to its mother, who witnessed the whole proceeding 
in some such tribulation as the startled wren exhibits when 
the foot of the urchin is seen to draw too near the nest of 
its young. 

“Thou seest that the hand of the Narragansett hath been 
stayed,” said Content, when a deep silence had succeeded 
this little movement, and speaking in a tone which betrayed 
hopes of victory. 

“ The ways of Providence are mysterious ! ” returned 
Meek ; “ wherein they bring comfort to the heart, it is 
right that we exhibit gratitude; and wherein they are 
charged with present affliction, it is meet to bow with 
humbled spirits to their orderings. But the visitations on 
families are merely 

He paused, for at that moment a door opened, and a 
party entered bearing a burden, which they deposited with 
decent and grave respect on the floor, in the very centre of 
the room. The unceremonious manner of the entrance, 
the assured and the common gravity of their air, proclaimed 
that the villagers felt their errand to be a sufflcient apology 
for this intrusion. Had not the business of the past day 
naturally led to such a belief, the manner and aspects of 
those who had borne the burden would have announced it 
to be a human body. 

“ I had believed that none fell in this day’s strife, but 
those who met their end near my own door,” said Content, 
after a long, respectful, and sorrowing pause. “ Remove 
the face-cloth that we may know on whom the blow hath 
fallen.” 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 419 

One of tlie young men obeyed. It was not easy to 
recognise through the mutilations of savage barbarity the 
features of the sufferer. But a second and steadier look 
showed the gory and still agonized countenance of the indi- 
vidual who had that morning left the Wish-Ton-Wish on the 
message of the colonial authorities. Even men as practised 
as those present in the horrible inventions of Indian cruelty, 
turned sickening away from a spectacle that was calculated 
to chill the blood of all who had not become callous to 
human affliction. , Content made a sign to cover the mise- 
rable remnants of mortality, and hid his face with a shudder. 

It is not necessary to dwell on the scene that followed. 
Meek Wolfe availed himself of this unexpected event to 
press his plan on the attention of the commanding officer 
of the settlement, who was certainly far better disposed to 
listen to his proposals, than before this palpable evidence of 
the ruthless character of their enemies was presented to his 
view. Still Content listened with reluctance, nor was it 
without the intention of exercising an ulterior discretion in 
the case, that he finally consented to give orders for the 
departure of a body of men with the approach of the morning 
light. As much of the discourse was managed with those 
half-intelligible allusions that distinguished men of their 
habits, it is probable that every individual present had his 
own particular views on the subject ; though it is certain 
one and all faithfully believed that he was solely infiuenced 
by a justifiable regard to his temporal mterest, which was in 
some degree rendered still more praiseworthy by a reference 
to the service of his Divine Master. 

As the party returned, Dudley lingered a moment alone 
with his former master. The face of the honest-meaning 
Ensign was charged with more than its usual significance ; 
and he even paused a little after all were beyond hearing, 
ere he could muster resolution to propose the subject that 
was so evidently uppermost in his mind. 


420 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

“ Captain Content Heatlicote he at length commenced, 
“ evil or good comes not alone in this life. Thou hast found 
her that was sought with so much pain and danger, but 
thou hast found with her more than a Christian gentleman 
can desire. I am a man of humble station, but I may 
make bold to know what should be the feelings of a father 
whose child is restored, replenished by such an over-bounth 
ful giftr 

“ Speak plainer,” said Content, firmly. 

“ Then I would say, that it may not be grateful to one 
who taketh his place among the best in this Colony, to 
have an offspring with an Indian cross of blood, and over 
whose birth no rite of Christian marriage hath been said. 
Here is Abundance, a woman of exceeding usefulness in a 
newly settled region, hath made Reuben a gift of three 
noble boys this very morning. The accession is little known, 
and less discoursed of, in that the good wife is accustomed 
to such liberality, and that the day hath brought forth still 
greater events. Now a child more or less to such a wo- 
man, can neither raise question among the neighbors, nor 
make any extraordinary difference to the household. My 
brother Ring would be happy to add the boy to his stock ; 
and should there be any remarks concerning the color of 
the younker, at a future day, it should give no reason of 
surprise had the whole four been born, on the day of such 
an inroad, red as Metacom himself !” 

Content heard his companion to the end without inter- 
ruption. His countenance, for a single instant, as the mean- 
ing of the Ensign became unequivocal, reddened with a 
worldly feeling to which he had long been a stranger ; but 
the painful expression as quickly disappeared, and in its 
place reigned the meek submission to Providence that ha- 
bitually characterized his mien. 

“ That I have been troubled with this vain thought I 
shall not deny,” he answered ; “ but the Lord hath given 


THS WEPT OF WISH - TON - WISH. 421 


me strength to resist. It is his will that one sprung of 
heathen lineage shall come beneath my roof, and let his will 
be done ! My child and all that are hers are welcome.” 

Ensign Dudley pressed the point no further, and they 
separated. 



422 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH.^ 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

“Tariy a little ; — there is something else.” 

Mebchaiit of Venice. 

We shift the scene. The reader will transport himself 
from the valley of the Wish-Ton-Wish to the bosom of a 
deep and dark wood. 

It may be thought that such scenes have been too often 
described to need any repetition. Still, as it is possible 
that these pages may fall into the hands of some who have 
never quitted the older members of the Union, we shall 
endeavor to give them a faint impression concerning the 
appearance of the place to which it has become our duty to 
transfer the action of the tale. . 

Although it is certain that inanimate, like animate nature, 
has its period, the existence of the tree has no fixed and 
common limit. The oak, the elm, and the linden, the 
quick-growing sycamore and the tall pine, has each its own 
laws for the government of its growth, its magnitude, and 
its duration. By this provision of nature, the wilderness, in 
the midst of so many successive changes, is always main- 
tained at the point nearest to perfection, since the acces- 
sions are so few and gradual as to preserve its character. 

The American forest exhibits in the highest degree the 
grandeur of repose. As nature never does violence to its 
own laws, the soil throws out the plant which it is best 
qualified to support, and the eye is not often disappointed 
by a sickly vegetation. There ever seems a generous emu- 
lation in the trees, which is not to be found among others 
of different families, when left to pursue their quiet exist- 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 423 

ence in the solitude of the fields. Each struggles towards 
the light, and an equality in hulk and a similarity in form 
are thus produced, which scarce belong to their distinctive 
characters. The effect may be easily imagined. The vaulted 
arches beneath are filled with thousands of high, unbroken 
columns, which sustain one vast and trembling canopy of 
leaves. A pleasing gloom and an imposing silence have 
their interminable reign below, while an outer and another 
atmosphere seems to rest on the cloud of foliage. 

While the light plays on the varying surface of the tree- 
tops, one sombre and little-varied hue colors the earth. 
Dead and moss-covered logs ; mounds covered with decom- 
posed vegetable substances, the graves of long-past genera- 
tions of trees ; cavities left by the fall of some uprooted 
trunk ; dark fungi, that flourish around the decayed roots 
of those about to lose their hold, with a few slender and 
delicate plants of a minor growth, and which best succeed 
in the shade, form the accompaniments of the lower scene. 
The whole is tempered, and in summer rendered grateful, 
by a freshness which equals that of the subterranean vault, 
without possessing any of its chilling dampness. In the 
midst of this gloomy solitude the foot of ' man is rarely 
heard. An occasional glimpse of the bounding deer or 
trotting moose is almost the only interruption on the earth 
itself ; while the hea\7' bear or leaping panther is, at long 
intervals, met seated on the branches of some venerable 
tree. There are moments, too, when troops of hungry 
wolves are found hunting on the trail of the deer; but 
these are seen rather as exceptions to the stillness of the 
place, than as accessories that should properly be introduced 
into the picture. Even the birds are, in common, mute, or 
when they do break the silence, it is in a discordance that 
suits the character of their wild abode. 

Through such a scene two men were industriously jour- 
neying on the day which succeeded the inroad last described. 


424 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

They marched as wont, one after the other, the younger and 
more active leading the way through the monotony of the 
woods, as accurately and as unhesitatingly as the mariner 
directs his course by the aid of the needle over the waste 
of waters. He in front was light, agile, and seemingly un- 
wearied ; while the one who followed was a man of heavy 
mould, whose step denoted less practice in the exercise of 
the forest, and possibly some failing of natural vigor. 

“ Thine eye, Narragansett, is an unerring compass by 
which to steer, and thy leg a never-wearied steed,” said the 
latter, easting the butt of his musket on the end of a moul- 
dering log, while Jie leaned on the barrel for support. “ If 
thou movest on the war-path with the same diligence as 
thou usest in our errand of peace, well may the Colonists 
dread thy enmity.” 

The other turned, and without seeking aid from the gun 
which rested against his shoulder, he pointed at the several 
objects he named, and answered — 

“ My father is this aged sycamore ; it leans against the 
young oak. Conanchet is a straight pine. There is great 
cunning in grey hairs,” added the chief, stepping lightly 
forward until a finger rested on the arm of Submission ; 
“ can they tell the time when we shall lie under the moss 
like a dead hemlock ?” 

“ That exceedeth the wisdom of man. It is enough. Sa- 
chem, if when we fall, we may say with truth, that the land 
we shadowed is no poorer for our growth. Thy bones will 
lie in the earth where thy fathers trod, but mine may whiten 
in the vault of some gloomy forest.” 

The quiet of the Indian’s face was disturbed. The pupils 
of his dark eyes contracted, his nostrils dilated, and his full 
chest heaved, and then all reposed like the sluggish ocean 
after a vain effort to heave its waters into some swelling 
wave, during a general calm. 

“ Fire hath scorched the prints of my father’s moccasins 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 425 

from the earth,” he said, with a smile that was placid 
though bitter, “ and my eyes cannot find them. I shall die 
under that shelter,” pointing through an opening in the 
foliage to the blue void ; “ the falling leaves Avill cover my 
bones.” 

“ Then hath the Lord given us a new bond of friendship. 
There is a yew-tree and a quiet church-yard in a coujjjtry 
afar, where generations of my race sleep in their graves. 
The place is white with stones, that bear the name of ” 

Submission suddenly ceased to speak, and when his eye 
was raised to that of his companion, it was just in time to 
detect the manner in which the curious interest of the latter 
changed suddenly to cold reserve, and to note the high 
courtesy of the air with which the Indian turned the dis- 
course. 

“ There is water beyond the little hill,” he said. “ Let 
my father drink and grow stronger, that he may live to lie 
in the clearings.” 

The other bowea, and they proceeded to the spot in 
silence. It would seem by the length of time that was now 
lost in taking the required refreshment, that the travellers 
had journeyed long and far. The Narragansett ate more 
sparingly, however, than his companion ; for his mind 
appeared to sustain a weight that was far more grievous 
than the fatigue which had been endured by the body. Still 
his composure was little disturbed outwardly — for during the 
silent repast he maintained the air of a dignified warrior, 
rather than that of a man whose air could be much affected 
by inward sorrow. When nature was appeased, they both 
arose, and continued their route through the pathless 
forest. 

For an hour after quitting the spring, the progress of our 
two adventurers was swift, and uninterrupted by any passing 
observation or momentary pause. At the end of that time, 
however, the speed of Conanchet began to slacken, and his 


426 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

eye, instead of maintaining its steady and forward direction, 
was seen to wander with some of the appearance of indecision. 

“ Thou hast lost those secret signs by which we have so 
far threaded the woods,” observed his companion ; “ one 
tree is like another, and I see no difference in this wilder- 
ness of nature ; but if thou art at fault, we may truly despair 
of our object.” 

“Here is the nest of the eagle,” returned Conanchet, 
pointing at the object he named perched on the upper and 
whitened branches of a dead pine ; “ and my father may 
see the council-tree in this oak — but there are no Wampa- 
noags !” 

“ There are many eagles in this forest — nor is that oak 
one that may not have its fellow. Thine eye hath been 
deceived. Sachem, and some false sign hath led us astray.” 

Conanchet looked at his companion attentively. After a 
moment, he quietly asked — 

“ Did my father ever mistake his path, in going from his 
wigwam to the place where he looked upon the house of his 
Great Spirit ?” 

“ The matter of that often travelled path was different, 
Narragansett. My foot had worn the rock with many pass- 
ings, and the distance was a span. But we have journeyed 
through leagues of forest, and our route hath lain across 
brook and hill, through brake and morass, where human 
vision hath not been able to detect the smallest sign of the 
presence of man.” 

“ My father is old,” said the Indian, respectfully. “ His 
eye is not as quick as when he took the scalp of the Great 
Chief, or he would know the print of a moccasin. See,” — 
making his companion observe the mark of a human foot 
that was barely discernible by the manner in which the dead 
leaves had been displaced — “ his rock is worn, but it is 
harder than the ground. He cannot tell by its signs who 
passed, or when.” 


THE WEPT OP WISH - TON-WISH. 42V 

“ Here is truly that which ingenuity may portray as the 
print of man’s foot ; but it is alone, and may be some acci- 
dent of the wind.” 

“ Let my father look on every side ; he will see that a 
tribe hath passed.” 

“ This may be true, though my vision is unequal to detect 
that thou wouldst show. But if a tribe hath passed, let us 
follow.” 

Conanchet shook his head, and spread the fingers of his 
two hands in a manner to describe the radii of a circle. 

“ Hugh !” he said, starting even while he was thus signifi- 
cantly answering by gestures, “ a moccasin comes !” 

Submission, who had so often and so recently been arrayed 
against the savages, involuntarily sought the lock of his car- 
bine. His look and action were menacing, though his 
roving eye could see no object to excite alarm. 

Not so Conanchet. His quicker and more practised vision 
soon caught a glimpse of the warrior who was approaching, 
occasionally concealed by the trunks of trees, and whose 
tread on the dried leaves had first betrayed his proximity. 
Folding his arms on his naked bosom, the Narragansett chief 
awaited the coming of the other, in an attitude of calmness 
and dignity. Neither did he speak nor suffer a muscle 
to play, until a hand was placed on one of his arms, 
and he who had drawn near, said, in tones of amity and 
respect — 

“ The young Sachem hath come to look for his brother ?” 

“ Wampanoag, I have followed the trail, that your ears 
may listen to the talk of a Pale-face.” 

The third person in this interview was Metacom. He 
shot a haughty and fierce glance at the stranger, and then 
turned to his companion in arms, with recovered calmness, 
to reply. 

“ Has Conanchet counted his young men since they 
raised the whoop ?” he asked, in the language of the abori- 


428 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

gines. “ I saw many go into the fields, that never came 
back. Let the white men die.” 

“ Wampanoag, he is led by the wampum of a Sachem. 

I have not counted my young men ; but I know that they 
are strong enough to say that what their chief hath promised 
shall be done.” 

“ If the Yengeese is a friend to my brother, he is wel- 
come. The wigwam of Metacom is open ; let him 
enter it.” 

Philip made a sign for the others to follow, and led the 
way to the place he had named. 

The spot chosen by Philip for his temporary encampment ^ 
was suited to such a purpose. There was a thicket denser 
than common on one of its sides — a steep and high rock 
protected and sheltered its rear; a swift and wide brook dashed 
over fragments that had fallen, with time, Irom the preci- 
pice in its front, and towards the setting sun a whirlwind 
had opened a long and melancholy glade through the forest. 
A few huts of brush leaned against the base of the hill, and 
the scanty implements of their domestic economy were scat- 
tered among the habitations of the savages. The whole 
party did not number twenty ; for, as has been said, the 
Wampanoag had acted latterly more by the agency of his 
allies, than with the materials of his own proper force*. 

The three were soon seated on a rock whose foot was 
washed by the rapid current of the tumbling water. A few 
gloomy looking and fierce Indians watched the conference 
in the background. 

“ My brother hath followed my trail, that my ears may 
hear the words of a Yengeese,” Philip commenced, after a 
sufficient period had elapsed to escape the imputation of 
curiosity. “ Let him speak.” 

“ I have come singly into the jaws of the lion, restless 
and remorseless leader of the savages,” returned the bold 
exile, “ that you may hear the words of peace. Why hath 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 429 

tlie son seen the acts of the English so differently from the 
father ? Massasoit was a friend of the persecuted and 
patient pilgrims who have sought rest and refuge in this 
Bethel of the faithful ; but thou hast hardened thy heart to 
their prayers, and seekest the blood of those who wish thee 
no wrong. Doubtless thy nature is one of pride and mis- 
taken vanities, like that of all thy race, and it hath seemed 
needhil to the vain-glory of thy name and nation to battle 
against men of a different origin. -But know there is one 
who is master of all here on earth, as he is King of Heaven ! 
It is his pleasure that the sweet savor of his worship should 
arise from the wil4erness. His will is law, and they that 
would withstand do but kick against the pricks. Listen 
then to peaceful counsels, that the land may he parcelled 
justly to meet the wants of all, and the country he prepared 
for the incense of the altar.” 

This exhortation was uttered in a deep and almost un- 
earthly voice, and with a degree of excitement that was 
probably increased by the intensity with which the solitary 
had lately been brooding over his peculiar opinions, and the 
terrible scenes in which he had so recently been an actor. 
Philip listened with the high courtesy of an Indian prince. 
Unintelligible as was the meaning of the speaker, his coum 
tenance betrayed no gleaming of impatience, his lip no 
smile of ridicule. On the contrary, a noble and lofty gra' 
vity reigned in every feature ; and ignorant as he was of 
what the other wished to say, his attentive eye and bending 
head expressed every wish to comprehend. 

“ My pale friend hath spoken very wisely,” he said, when 
the other ceased to speak. “ But he doth not see clearly in 
these woods ; he sits too much in the shade ; his eye is bet- 
ter in a clearing. Metacom is not a fierce beast. His claws 
are worn out ; his legs are tired with travelling ; he cannot 
jump far. My pale friend wants to divide the land. Why 
trouble the Great Spirit to do his work twice ? He gave 


430 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

the Wampanoags their hunting-grounds, and places on the 
salt lake to catch their fish and clams, and he did not forget 
his children, the JSTarragansetts. He put them in the midst 
of the water, for he saw that they could swim. Did he for- 
get the Yengeese ? or did he put them in a swamp, where 
they would turn into frogs and lizards ?” 

“ Heathen, my voice shall never deny the bounties of my 
God ! His hand hath placed my fathers in a fertile land, 
rich in the good things of the world, fortunate in position, 
sea-girt and impregnable. Happy is he who can find justi- 
fication in dwelling within its borders !” 

An empty gourd lay on the rock, at the side of Metacom. 
Bending over the stream he filled it to the brim with water, 
and held the vessel before the eyes of his companions. 

“ See,” he said, pointing to the even surface of the fluid : 
“ so much hath the Great Spirit said it shall hold. Now,” 
he added, filling the hollow of the other hand from the 
brook, and casting its contents into the gourd, “,now my 
brother knows that some must come away. It is so with 
his country. There is no longer room in it for my pale 
friend.” 

“ Did I attempt to deceive thine ears with this tale, I 
should lay falsehood to my soul. We are many, and sorry 
am I to say that some among us are like unto them that 
were called ‘ Legion.’ But to say that there is not still 
place for all to die where they are born, is to utter damning 
untruth.” 

“ The land of the Yengeese is then good — very good,” 
returned Philip ; “ but their young men like one that is 
better.” 

“ Thy nature, Wampanoag, is not equal to comprehend 
the motives which have led us hither, and our discourse is 
getting vain.” 

“ My brother Conanchet is a Sachem. The leaves that 
fall from the trees of his country, in the season of frosts. 


THE WEPT OP WISH-TON-WISH. 431 


blow into my hunting-grounds. We are neighbors and 
friends” slightly bending his head to the Narragansett. 
“ When a wicked Indian runs from the islands to the wig- 
wams of my people, he is whipt and sent back. We keep 
the path between us open only for honest red men.” 

Philip spoke with a sneer that his habitual loftiness of 
manner did not conceal from his associate chief, though it 
was so slight as entirely to escape the observation of him 
who was the subject of his sarcasm. The fonner took the 
alarm, and for the first time during the dialogue did he 
break silence. 

“ My pale father ' is a brave warrior,” said the young 
Sachem of the Narragansetts. “ His hand took the scalp of 
the Great Sagamore of his people !” 

The countenance of Metacom changed instantly. In place 
of the ironical scorn that was gathering about his lip, its ex- 
pression became serious and respectful. He gazed steadily 
at the hard and weather-beaten features of his guest ; and it 
is probable that words of higher courtesy than any he had 
yet used would have fallen from him, had not at that 
moment a signal been given by a young Indian, set to 
watch on the summit of the rock, that one approached. 
Both Metacom and Conanchet appeared to hear this cry 
with some uneasiness. Neither, however, arose, nor did 
either betray such evidence of alarm as denoted a deeper 
interest in the interruption than the circumstances might 
very naturally create. A warrior was shortly seen entering 
the encampment, from the side of the forest which was 
known to lie in the direction of the Wish-Ton-Wish. 

The moment Conanchet saw the person of the newly- 
arrived man, his eye and attitude resumed their former 
repose, though the look of Metacom still continued gloomy 
and distrustfiil. The difference in the manner of the chiefs 
was not however sufiiciently strong to be remarked by Sub- 
mission, who was about to resume the discourse, when the 


432 THE WEPTvOF WISH-TON-WISH. 

new-comer moved past the cluster of warriors in the encamp- 
ment, and took his seat near them, on a stone so low, that 
^ the water laved his feet. As usual, there was no greeting 
between the Indians for some moments, the three appearing 
to regard the arrival as a mere thing of course. But the 
uneasiness of Metacom prompted a communication sooner 
than common. 

“ Mohtucket,” he said, in the language of their tribe, 
“ hath lost the trail of his friends. We thought the crows 
of the Pale-men were picking his bones !” 

“ There was no scalp at his belt, and Mohtucket was 
ashamed to be seen among the young men with an empty 
hand.” 

“ He remembered that he had too often come back with- 
out striking a dead enemy,” returned Metacom, about whose 
firm mouth lurked an expression of ill-concealed contempt. 
“ Has he now touched a v/afrior ?” 

The Indian, who was merely a man of the inferior class, 
held up the trophy which hung at his girdle, to the exami- 
nation of the chief. Metacom looked at the disgusting ob- 
ject with the calmness and nearly with the interest that a 
virtuoso would lavish on an antique memorial of some tri- 
umph of former ages. His finger was thrust through a hole 
in the skin, and then, while he resumed his former position, 
he observed drily — 

“ A bullet hath hit the head. The arrow of Mohtucket 
doth little harm !” 

“ Metacom hath never looked on his young man like a 
friend since the brother of Mohtucket was killed.” 

The glance that Philip cast at his underling, though it 
was not unmingled with suspicion, was one of princely and 
savage scorn. Their Avhite auditor had not been able to 
understand the discourse, but the dissatisfaction and uneasi- 
ness of the eyes of both were too obvious not to show that 
the conference was far from being amicable. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


433 


“ The Sachem hath discontent with his young man,” he 
observed, “ and from this may he understand the nature of 
that which leadeth many to quit the land of their fathers, 
beneath the rising sun, to come to this wilderness in the 
west. If he will now listen I will touch further on the 
business of my errand, and deal more at large with the sub- 
ject we have but so lightly skimmed.” 

Philip manifested attention. He smiled on his guest, 
and even bowed his assent to the proposal; still his keen 
eye seemed to read the soul of his subordinate, through the 
veil of his gloomy visage. There was a play of the fingers 
of his right hand when the arm fell from its position across 
his bosom to his thigh, as if they itched to grasp the knife, 
whose buck-horn handle lay within a few inches of their 
^s Teach. Yet his air to the white man was composed and 
dignified. The latter was again about to speak, when the 
arches of the forest suddenly rang with the report of a mus- 
ket. All in and near the encampment sprang to their feet 
at the well known sound, and yet all continued as motion- 
less as if so many dark but breathing statues had been 
planted there. The rustling of leaves was heard, and then 
the body of the young Indian who had been posted on the 
rock, rolled to the edge of the precipice, whence it fell, like 
a log, on the yielding roof of one of the lodges beneath. A 
shout issued from the forest behind, a volley roared among 
the trees, and glancing lead was whistling through the air, 
and cutting twdgs from the undergrowth on every side. 
Two more of the Wampanoags were seen rolling on the 
earth in the death-agony. 

The voice of Annawon was heard in the encampment, 
and at the next instant the place was deserted. 

During this startling and fearful moment the four indivi- 
duals near the stream were inactive. Conanchet and his 
Christian friend stood to their arms, but it w'as rather as 
men cling to -the means of defence in moments of great 

19 


434 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

jeopardy, than with any intention of offensive hostilities. 
Metacom seemed undecided. Accustomed to receive and 
inflict surprises, a warrior so experienced could not be dis- 
concerted ; still he hesitated as to the course he ought to 
take. But when Annawon, who was nearer the scene, 
sounded the signal of retreat, he sprang towards the re- 
turned straggler, and with a single blow of his tomahawk 
brained the traitor. Glances of flerce revenge, and of inex- 
tinguishable though disappointed hatred, were exchanged 
between the victim and his chief, as the former lay on the 
rock, gasping for breath ; and then the latter turned in his 
tracks, and raised the dripping weapon over the head of the 
white man. 

“ Wampanoag, no!” said Conanchet, in a voice of thun- 
der. “ Our lives are one.” 

Philip hesitated. Fierce and dangerous passions were 
struggling in his breast, but the habitual self-command of 
the wily politician of those woods prevailed. Even in that 
scene of blood and alarm he smiled on his powerful and 
fearless young ally ; then pointing to the deepest shades of 
the forest he bounded towards them with the activity of a 
deer. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


435 


CHAPTER XXX. 


“ But peace be with him I 
That life is better life, past fearing death, 

Than that which liyes to fear.” 

Measure foe Measure. 


Courage is both' a comparative and an improvable vir- 
tue. If the fear of death be a weakness common to the 
race, it is one that is capable of being diminished by fre- 
quent exposure, and even rendered extinct by reflection. 
It was, therefore, with sensibilities entirely changed from 
their natural course, that the two individuals who were left 
alone by the retreat of Philip, saw the nature and the ap- 
proach of the danger that now beset them. Their position 
near the brook had so far protected them from the bullets of 
the assailants ; but it was equally obvious to both, that in a 
minute or two the Colonists would enter an encampment 
that was already deserted. Each, in consequence, acted 
aecording to those opinions which had been fostered by the 
habits of their respective lives. 

As Conanchet had no act of vengeance like that which 
Metacom had performed, immediately before his eyes, he 
had, at the first alarm, given all his faculties to the nature 
of the attack. The first minute was sufficient to understand 
its character, and the second enabled him to decide. 

“ Come,” he said hastily, but with perfect self-possession, 
pointing as, he spoke to the swift-running stream at his feet : 
“ we will go with the water, let the marks of our trail run 
before.” 

Submission hesitated. There was something like haughty 


436 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 

military pride in the stern determination of his eye, which 
seemed reluctant to incur the disgrace of a flight so unequi- 
vocal, and, as he might have believed, so unworthy of his 
character. 

“ No, Narragansett !” he answered ; “ flee for thy life, 
but leave me to reap the harvest of my deeds. They can 
but leave my bones by the side of those of this traitor at 
my feet.” 

The mien of Conanchet was neither excited nor dis- 
pleased. He quietly drew the corner of his light robe 
over a shoulder, and was about to resume his seat on the 
stone from which he had but a minute before arisen, when 
his companion again urged him to fly. 

“ The enemies of a chief must not say that he led his 
friend into a trap, and that when his leg was fast he ran 
away himself, like a lucky fox. If my brother stays to be 
killed, Conanchet will be found near him.” 

“ Heathen, heathen !” returned the other, moved nearly 
to tears by the loyalty of his guide ; “ many a Christian 
man might take lessons from thy faith. Lead on — I will 
follow at the utmost of my speed.” 

The Narragansett sprang into the brook, and took its 
downward course — a direction opposite to that which Philip 
had chosen. There was wisdom in this expedient; for 
though their pursuers might see that the water was troubled, 
there was no certainty as to the direction of the fugitives. 
Conanchet had foreseen this little advantage, and with the 
instinctive readiness of his people, he did not fail to make 
it of service. Metacom had been influenced by the course 
taken by his warriors, who had retired under shelter of the 
rocks. 

Ere the two fugitives had gone any great distance, they 
heard the shouts of their enemies in the encampment ; and 
soon after, scattering shot announced that Philip had already 
rallied his people to resistance. There was an assurance of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 437 

safety in the latter circumstance, which caused them to 
relax their speed. 

“ My foot is not as active as in days that are past,” said 
Submission ; “ we will therefore recover strength while we 
may, lest we be yet taken at emergency. ' Narragansett, 
thou hast ever kept thy faith with me, and come of what 
race or worship in what manner thou mayst, there is one 
to remember it.” 

“ My father looked with the eye of a friend on the Indian 
boy, that was kept like a young bear in a cage. He taught 
him to speak with the tongue of a Yengeese.” 

“We passed weary months together in our prison. Chief; 
and Apollyon must have been strong in a heart, to resist 
the opportunity of friendship in such a situation. But, even 
there, my confidence and care were repaid, for without thy 
mysterious hints, gathered from signs thou hadst gleaned 
thyself during the hunt, it would not have been in my 
power to warn my friends that thy people contemplated an 
attack, the unhappy night of the burning. Narragansett, 
we have done many acts of kindness, each in his own fash- 
ion, and I am ready to confess this last not to be the least 
of thy favors. Though of white blood and of Christian origin, 
I can almost say that my heart is Indian.” 

“ Then die an Indian’s death ! ” shouted a voice within 
twenty feet of the spot where they were wading down the 
stream. 

The menacing words were rather accompanied than 
seconded by a shot, and Submission fell. Conanchet cast 
his musket into the water, and turned to raise his compa- 
nion. 

“ It was merely age dealing wi^.^ the slippery stones of 
the brook,” said the latter, as he recovered his footing. 
“ That had well-nigh been a fatal discharge ! but God, for 
his own purpose, hath still averted the blow.” 

Conanchet did not speak. Seizing his gun, which lay at 


438 THE W E P T O F W 1 S II - T O X - W I S II . 

the bottom of the stream, he drew his friend after him to 
the shore, and plunged into the thicket that lined its banks. 
Here they were momentarily protected from missiles. But 
the shouts that succeeded the discharge of the muskets, 
were accompanied by yells that he knew to proceed fron? 
Pequots and Mohegans, tribes that were in deadly hostility 
to his own people. The hope of concealing their trail from 
such pursuers was not to be indulged, and for his companion 
to escape by flight he knew to be impossible. There was 
no time to lose. In such emergencies, with an Indian, 
thought takes the character of instinct. The fugitives stood 
at the foot of a sapling, whose top was completely concealed 
by masses of leaves, which belonged to the under-brush that 
clustered around its trunk. Into this tree he assisted Sub- 
mission to ascend, and then, without explaining his own^views, 
he instantly left the spot, rendering his own trail as broad 
and perceptible as possible, by beating down the bushes as 
he passed. 

The expedient of the faithful Narragansett was completely 
successful. Before he had got a hundred yards from the 
place, he saw the foremost of the hostile Indians hunting 
like bloodhounds on his footsteps. His movement w^as 
slow, until he saw that, having his person in view, all of the 
pursuers had passed the tree. Then, the arrow parting from 
the bow was scarce swifter than his flight. 

The pursuit now partook of all the exciting incidents and 
ingenious expedients of an Indian chase. Conanchet was 
soon hunted from his cover, and obliged to trust his person 
in the more open parts of the forest. Miles of hill and 
ravine, of plain, of rocks, of morass and stream were crossed, 
and still the trained w^arrior held on his way unbroken in 
spirit and scarce wearied in limb. The merit of a savage 
in such an employment rests more on his bottom than on 
his speed. The three or four Colonists, who had been sent 
with the party of amicable Indians to intercept those who 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


439 


might attempt to escape down the stream, were early thrown 
out ; and the struggle was now entirely between the fugitive 
and men equally practised in limb and ingenious in expedient. 

The Pequots had a great advantage in their number. 
The frequent doublings of the fugitive kept the chase within 
the circle of a mile, and as each of his enemies tired, there 
were always fresh pursuers to take his place. In such a 
contest the result could not be questionable. After more 
than two hours of powerful exertion, the foot of Conanchet 
began to fail, and his speed very sensibly to flag. Exhausted 
by efforts that had been nearly supernatural, the breathless 
warrior cast his person prostrate on the earth, and lay for 
several minutes as if he were dead. 

During this breathing-time his throbbing pulses grew 
more calm, his heart beat less violently, and the circulation 
was gradually returning to the tranquil flow of nature in a 
state of rest. It was at this moment, when his energies 
were recruited by rest, that the chief heard the tread of the 
moccasins on his trail. Rising, he looked back on the 
course over which he had just passed with so much pain. 
But a single warrior was in view. Hope for an instant 
regained the ascendency, and he raised his musket to fell 
his approaching adversary. The aim was cool, long, and it 
would have been fatal had not the useless tick of the lock 
reminded him of the condition of the gun. He cast the wet 
and unserviceable piece away and grasped his tomahawk ; 
but a band of Pequots rushed in to the rescue, rendering 
resistance madness. Perceiving the hopelessness of his 
situation, the Sachem of the Narragan setts dropped his 
topiahawk, loosened his belt, and advanced unarmed, with a 
noble resignation, to meet his foes. In the next instant he 
was their prisoner. 

“Bring me to your chief,” said the captive, haughtily, 
when the common herd into whose hands he had fallen 
would have questioned him on the subject of his companion’s 


440 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H . 

and of his own fate. “My tongue is used to speak with 
Sachems.” 

He was obeyed, and before an hour had passed the 
renowned Conanchet stood confronted with his most deadly 
enemy. 

The place of meeting was the deserted encampment of 
the band of Philip. Here most of the pursuers had already 
assembled, including all of the Colonists who had been 
engaged in the expedition. The latter consisted of Meek 
Wolfe, Ensign Dudley, Sergeant Ring, and a dozen private 
men of the village. 

The result of the enterprise was, by this time, generally 
known. Though Metacom, its principal object, had escaped ; 
yet, when it was understood that the Sachem of the Narra- 
gansetts had fallen into their hands, there was not an indi- 
vidual of the party who did not- think his personal risk more 
than amply compensated. Though the Mohegans and 
Pequots restrained their exultation, lest the pride of their 
captive should be soothed by such an evidence of his impor- 
tance, the white men drew around the prisoner with an 
interest and a joy they did not care to conceal. Still, as he 
had yielded to an Indian, there was an affectation of leaving 
the chief to the clemency of his conquerors. Perhaps some 
deeply-pondered scheme of policy had its influence in this 
act of seeming justice. 

When Conanchet was placed in the centre of the curious 
circle, he found himself immediately in presence of the 
principal chief of the tribe of the Mohegans. It was Tineas, 
son of that Uncas whose fortunes had also prevailed, aided 
by the whites, in the conflict with his father, the hapless 
but noble Miantonimoh. Fate had now decreed that the 
same evil star, which had governed the destinies of the an- 
cestor, should extend its influence to the second generation. 

The race of Uncas, though weakened of its power, and 
shorn of much of its peculiar grandeur by a vicious alliance 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 441 

with the English, still retained most of the fine qualities of 
savage heroism. He, who now stood forth to receive his 
captive, was a warrior of middle age, of just proportions, of 
a grave though fierce aspect, and of aii eye and countenance 
that expressed all those contradictory traits of character 
which render the savage warrior almost as admirable as he 
is appalling. Until this moment the rival chieftains had 
never met except in the confusion of battle. For a few 
minutes neither spoke. Each stood regarding the fine out- 
lines, the eagle eye, the proud bearing, and the severe gra- 
vity of the other in secret admiration, but with a calmness 
so immovable as entirely to conceal the workings of his 
thoughts. At length they began to assume miens suited to 
the part each was to enact in the coming scene. The coun- 
tenance of Uncas became ironical and exulting, while that 
of his captive grew still more cold and unconcerned. 

“ My young men,” said the former, “ have taken a fox 
skulking in the bushes. His legs were very long ; but he 
had no heart to use them.” 

Conanchet folded his arms on his bosom, and the glance 
of his quiet eye seemed to tell his enemy that devices so 
common were unworthy of them both. The other either 
understood its meaning, or loftier feelings prevailed, for he 
added, in a better taste — 

“ Is Conanchet tired of his life that he comes among my 
young men ?” 

Mohican,” said the Narragansett chief, “ he has been 
there before ; if Uncas will count his warriors he will see 
that some are wanting.” 

“ There are no traditions among the Indians of the is- 
lands !” said the other, with an ironical glance at the chiefs 
near him. “ They have never heard of Miantonimoh ; they 
do not know such a field as the Sachem’s plain !” 

The countenance of the prisoner changed. For a single 
instant it appeared to grow dark, as if a deep shadow were 
19 ^ 


442 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 


cast athwart it ; and then every feature rested, as before, in 
dignified repose. His conqueror watched the play of his 
lineaments, and when he thought nature was getting the 
ascendency, exultation gleamed about his own fierce eye ; 
but when the self-possession of the Narragansett returned, 
he affected to think no more of an effort that had been 
fruitless. 

“ If the men of the islands know little,” he continued, “ it 
is not so with the Mohicans. There was once a great 
Sachem among the Narragansetts ; he was wiser than the 
beaver, swifter than the moose, and more cunning than the 
red fox. But he could not see into to-morrow. Fdolish 
counsellors told him to go upon the war-path against the 
Pequots and Mohicans. He lost his scalp ; it hangs in the 
smoke of my wigwam. We shall see if it will know the 
hair of its son. Narragansett, here are wise men of the 
Pale-faces ; they will speak to you. If they off'er a pipe, 
smoke ; for tobacco is not plenty with yoUr tribe.” 

Tineas then turned away, leaving his prisoner to the 
interrogatories of his white allies. 

“ Here is the look of Miantonimoh, Sergeant Ring,” ob- 
served Ensign Dudley to his wife’s brother, after he had 
contemplated for a reasonable time the features of the pri- 
soner. “ I see the eye and the tread of the father in this 
young Sachem. And more. Sergeant Ring ; the chief 
favors the boy we picked up in the fields some dozen years 
agone, and kept in the block for the matter of many 
months, caged like a young panther. Hast forgotten the 
night, Reuben, and the lad, and the block ? A fiery oven 
is not hotter than that pile was getting before we dove into 
the earth. I never fail to think of it when the good minis- 
ter is dealing powerfully with the punishments of the 
wicked and the furnaces of Tophet !” 

The silent yeoman comprehended the disconnected allu- 
sions of his relative, nor was he slow in seeing the palpable 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 443 


resemblance between their prisoner and the Indian boy 
whose person had once been so familiar to his eye. Admi- 
ration and surprise were blended in his honest face, with an 
expression that appeared to announce deep regret. As nei 
ther of these individuals, however, was the principal person 
age of their party, each was fain to remain an attentive and 
an interested observer of that which followed. 

“ Worshipper of Baal !” commenced the sepulchral voice 
of the divine, “ it has pleased the King of Heaven and earth 
to protect his people ! The triumph of thy evil nature 
hath been short, and now cometh the judgment !” 

These words were uttered to ears that affected deafness. 
In the presence of his most deadly foe, and a captive, 
Conanchet was not a man to suffer his resolution to waver. 
He looked coldly and vacantly on the speaker, nor could 
the most suspicious or the most practised eye have detected 
in his mien his knowledge of the English language. De- 
ceived by the stoicism of the prisoner. Meek muttered a few 
words, in which the Narragansett was strangely dealt by, 
denunciations and petitions in his favor being blended in 
the quaint and exaggerated fashions of the times ; and then 
he submitted to the interference of those present, who were 
charged with the duty of deciding on the fate of the Indian. 

Although Eben Dudley was the principal and the effi- 
cient military man in this little expedition from the valley, 
he was accompanied by those whose authority was predo- 
minant in all matters that did not strictly appertain to the 
executive portion of the duty. Commissioners, named by 
the Government of the Colony, had come out with the 
party, clothed with power to dispose of Philip, should that 
dreaded chief, as was expected, fall into the hands of the 
English. To these persons the fate of Conanchet was now 
referred. 

We shall not detain the narrative to dwell on the par- 
ticulars of the council. The question was gravely consi- 


444 THE WEPT OF W I S H - T O N - W I S H 

derecl, and it was decided with a deep and conscientious 
sense of the responsibility of those who acted as judges. 
Several hours were passed in deliberation, Meek opening 
and closing the proceedings by solemn prayers. The judg- 
ment was then announced to Uncas by the divine himself. 

“ The wise men of my people have consulted together in 
the matter of this Narragansett,” he said, “ and their spirits 
have wrestled powerfully with the subject. In coming to 
their conclusion, if it wear the aspect of time-serving, let all 
remember the Providence of Heaven hath so interwoven 
the interests of man with its own good purposes, that to the 
carnal eye they may outwardly seem to be inseparable. 
But that which is here done is done in good faith to our 
ruling principle, which is good faith to thee and to all 
others who support the altar in this wilderness. And herein 
is our decision : We commit the Narragansett to thy jus- 
tice, since it is evident that while he is at large, neither 
thou, who art a feeble prop to the church in these regions, 
nor we, who are its humble and unworthy servitors, are 
safe. Take him, then, and deal with him according to thy 
wisdom. We place limits to thy power in only two things. 
It is not meet that any born of humanity, and having hu- 
man sensibilities, should sulfer more in the flesh than may 
be necessary to the ends of duty ; we therefore decree that 
thy captive shall not die by torture ; and, for the better 
security of this our charitable decision, two of our number 
shall accompany thee and him to the place of execution ; it 
being always supposed it is thy intention to inflict the pains 
of death. Another condition of this concession to a foreor- 
dered necessity is, that a Christian minister may be at hand, 
in order that the sufferer may depart with the prayers of 
one accustomed to lift his voice in petitions to the footstool 
of the Almighty.” 

The Mohegan chief heard this sentence with deep atten- 
tion. When he found he Avas to be denied the satisfaction 


THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 445 


of proving, or perhaps of overcoming, the resolution of his 
enemy, a deep cloud passed across his swarthy visage. But 
the strength of his tribe had long been broken, and to resist 
would have been as unprofitable as to repine would have 
been unseemly. The conditions were therefore accepted, 
and preparations were accordingly made among the Indians 
to proceed to judgment. 

These people had few contradictory principles to appease, 
and no subtleties to distract their decision. Direct, fearless, 
and simple in all their practices, they did little more than 
gather the voices of the chiefs and acquaint their captive 
with the result. They knew that fortune had thrown an 
implacable enemy into their hands, and they believed that 
self-preservation demanded his life. To them it mattered 
little whether he had arrows in his hands, or had yielded 
himself an unarmed prisoner. He knew the risk hje ran in 
submitting, and he had probably consulted his own tjharacter, 
rather than their benefit, in throwing away his arms. They 
therefore pronounced the judgment of death against their 
captive, merely respecting the decree of their white allies, 
which had commanded them to spare the torture. 

So soon as this determination was known, the Commission- 
ers of the Colony hastened away from the spot with con- 
sciences that required some aid from the stimulus of their 
subtle doctrines, in order to render them quiet. They were, 
however, ingenious casuists ; and as they hurried along their 
return path, most of the party were satisfied that they had 
rather manifested a merciful interposition, than exercised 
any act of positive cruelty. 

During the two or three hours which had passed in these 
solemn and usual preparations, Conanchet was seated on a 
rock, a close but apparently an unmoved spectator of aU 
that passed. His eye was mild, and at times melancholy ; 
but its brightness and its steadiness remained un'mpaired. 
When his sentence was announced, it exhibited .lo change ; 


I 


446 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


and he saw all the pale-men depart, with the calmness he 
had maintained throughout. It was only as Uncas, attended 
by the body of his party and the two white superintendents 
who had been left, approached, that his spirit seemed to 
awaken. 

“ My people have said that there shall be no more wolves 
in the woods,” said Uncas ; “ and they have commanded our 
young men to slay the hungriest of them all.” 

“ It is well !” coldly returned the other. 

A gleaming of admiration, and perhaps of humanity, 
came over the grim countenance of Uncas, as he gazed at 
the repose which reigned in the firm features of his victim. 
For an instant, his purpose wavered. 

“ The Mohicans are a great tribe !” he added ; “ and the 
race of Uncas is getting few. We will paint our brother so 
that the lying Narragansetts shall not know him, and he 
will be a tvarrior on the main land.” 

This relenting of his enemy had a corresponding effect on 
the generous temper of Conanchet. The lofty pride deserted 
his eye, and his look became milder and more human. For 
a minute, intense thought brooded around his brow ; the 
grim muscles of his mouth playe'd a little, though scarcely 
enough to be seen, and then he spoke. 

“ Mohican,” he said, “ why should your young men be in 
a hurry ? My scalp will be the scalp of a Great Chief to- 
morrow. They will not take two, should they strike their 
prisoner now.” 

“ Hath Conanchet forgotten anything, that he is not 
ready ?” 

“ Sachem, he is always ready — But ” he paused, and 

spoke in tones that faltered, — “ does a Mohican live alone ?” 
'■^n^How many suns does the Narragansett ask ?” 

“ when the shadow of that pine points towards the 
brook, Cc^nchet will be ready. He will then stand in the 
shade, with paked hands.” 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TOX-WISH. 4 4*5 

“ Go,” said Uncas, with dignity ; “ I have heard the 
words of a Sagamore.” 

Conanchet turned, and passing swiftly through the silent 
crowd, his person was soon lost in the surrounding forest. 



448 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

“Therefore, lay bare your bosom.” 

Meechant of Ventoe. 

The night that succeeded was wild and melancholy. The 
moon was nearly full, hut it§ place in the heavens was only 
seen, as the masses of vapor which drove through the air 
occasionally opened, suffering short gleams of fitful light to 
fall on the scene below. A south-western wind rather 
moaned than sighed through the forest, and there were 
m.oments when its freshness increased, till every leaf seemed 
a tongue, and each low plant appeared to he endowed with 
the gift of speech. With the exception of these imposing 
and not unpleasing natural sounds, there was a solemn quiet 
in and about the village of the Wish-Ton- Wish. An hour 
before the moment when we resume the action of the 
legend, the sun had settled into the neighboring forest, and 
most of its simple and laborious inhabitants had already 
sought their rest. 

The lights, however, still shone through many of the 
windows of the “ Heathcote house,” as, in the language of 
the country, the dwelling of the Puritan was termed. There 
was the usual stirring industry in and about the offices, and 
the ordinary calm was reigning in the superior parts of the 
habitation. A solitary man was to be seen on its piazza. 
It was young Mark Heathcote, who paced the long and 
narrow gallerv, as if impatient of some interruption to his 
wishes. 

The uneasiness of the young man was of short continu- 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 449 


ance ; for, ere he had been many minutes at his poet a door 
opened, and two light and timid forms glided out of the 
house. 

“ Thou hast not come alone, Martha,” said the youth, 
half-displeased. “ I told thee that the matter I had to say 
was for thine own ear.” 

“ It is our Ruth. Thou knowest, Mark, that she may not 
be left alone, for we fear her return to the forest. She is 
like some ill-tamed fawn, that would be apt to leap away at 
the first well known sound from the woods. Even now, I 
fear that we are too much asunder.” 

“Fear nothing p my sister fondles her infant, and she 
thinketh not of flight ; thou seest I am here to intercept 
her, were such her intention. Now speak with candor, 
Martha, and say if thou meanest in sincerity that the visits 
of the Hartford gallant were less to thy liking than most of 
thy friends have believed ?” 

“ What I have said cannot be recalled.” 

“ Still it may be repented of.” 

“ I do not number the dislike I may feel for the young 
man among my failings. I am too happy here, in this 

family, to wish to quit it. And now that our sister 

there is one speaking to her at this moment, Mark !” 

“ ’Tis only the innocent,” returned the young man, glanc- 
ing his eye to the other end of thei piazza. “ They confer 
often together. Whittal hath just come in from the woods, 
where he is much inclined to pass an hour or two, each 
evening. Thou wast saying that now we have our sister — ?” 

“ I feel less desire to change my abode.” 

“ Then why not stay with us for ever, Martha ?” 

“ Hist !” interrupted his companion, who, though con- 
scious of what she was about to listen to, shrank, with the 
waywardness of human nature, from the very declaration 
she most wished to hear, “ hist — there was a movement. 
A-h ! Ruth and Whittal are fled !” 


450 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ They seek some amusement for the babe — they are near 
the out-buildings. Then why not accept a right to remain 
for ever ” 

“ It may not be, Mark,” cried the girl, wresting her hand 
from his grasp ; “ they are fled !” 

Mark reluctantly released his hold, and followed to the 
spot where his sister had been sitting. She was, in truth, 
gone; though some minutes passed before even Martha 
seriously believed that she had disappeared without an in- 
tention of returning. The agitation of both rendered the 
search ill-directed and uncertain, and there was perhaps a 
secret satisfaction in prolonging their interview even in this 
vague manner, that prevented them for some time from 
giving the alarm. When that moment did come, it was too 
late. The fields were examined, the orchards and out- 
houses thoroughly searched, without any traces of the fugi- 
tives. It would have been useless to enter the forest in the 
darkness, and all that could be done in reason, was to set a 
watch during the night, and to prepare for a more active 
and intelligent pursuit in the morning. 

But, long before the sun arose, the small and melancholy 
party of the fugitives threaded the woods at such a distance 
from the valley, as would have rendered the plan of the 
family entirely nugatory. Conanchet had led the way over 
a thousand forest knolls, across water- courses, and through 
dark glens, followed by his silent partner, with an industry 
that would have baffled the zeal of even those from whom 
they fled. W^hittal Ring, bearing the infant on his back, 
trudged with unwearied step in the rear. Hours had passed 
in this manner, and not a syllable had been uttered by 
either of the three. Once or twice, they had stopped at 
some spot where water, limpid as the air, gushed from the 
rocks ; and, drinking from the hollows of their hands, the 
march had been resumed with the same speechless industry 
as before. 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 451 


At length Conanchet paused. He studied the position of 
the sun gravely, and took a long and anxious look at the 
signs of the forest, in order that he might not be deceived 
in its quarter. To an unpractised eye, the arches of the 
trees, the leaf-covered earth, and the mouldering logs, would 
have seemed everywhere the same. But it was not easy to 
deceive one so trained in the woods. Satisfied equally with 
the progress he had made, and with the hour, the chief 
signed to his two companions to place themselves at his side, 
and took a seat on a low shelf of rock that thrust its naked 
head out of the side of a hill. 

For many minutes after all were seated, no one broke the 
silence. The eye of Narra-mattah sought the countenance 
of her husband, as the eye of woman seeks instruction from 
the expression of features that she has been taught to 
revere; but still she spoke not. The innocent laid the 
patient babe at the feet of its mother, and imitated her 
reserve. 

“ Is the air of the woods pleasant to the Honey-suckle, 
after living in the wigwam of her people ?” asked Conanchet, 
breaking the long silence. “ Can a flower, which blossomed 
in the sun, like the shade?” 

“ A woman of the Narragansetts is happiest in the lodge 
of her husband.” 

The eye of the chief met her confiding look with affec- 
tion, and then it fell, mild and full of kindness, on the 
features of the infant that lay at their feet. There was a 
minute, during which an expression of bitter melancholy 
gathered about his brow. 

“ The Spirit that made the earth,” he continued, “ is very 
cunning. lie has known where to put the hemlock, and 
where the oak should grow. He has left the moose and 
the deer to the Indian hunter, and he has given the horse 
and the ox to a Pale-face. Each tribe hath its hunting- 
grounds and its game. The Narragansetts know the taste 


452 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

of a clam, while the Mohawks eat the berries of the moun- 
tains. Thou hast seen the bright bow which shines in the 
skies, Narra-mattah, and knowest how one color is mixed 
with another, like paint on a warrior’s face. The leaf of 
the hemlock is like the leaf of the sumach; the ash, the 
chestnut; the chestnut, the linden; and the linden, the 
broad-leaved tree which bears the red fruit, in the clearing 
of the Yengeese ; but the tree of the red fruit is little like 
the hemlock ! Conan chet is a tall and straight hemlock, 
and the father of Narra-mattah is a tree of the clearing, 
that bears the red fruit. The Great Spirit was angry when 
they grew together.” 

The sensitive wife understood but too well the current of 
the chiefs thoughts. Suppressing the pain she felt, how- 
ever, she answered with the readiness of a woman whose 
imagination was quickened by her affections. 

“What Conanchet hath said is true. But the Yengeese 
have put the apple of their own land on the thorn of our 
woods, and the fruit is good !” 

“ It is like that boy,” said the chief, pointing to his son ; 
“ neither red nor pale. No, Narra-mattah ; what the Great 
Spirit hath commanded, even a Sachem must do.” 

“ And doth Conanchet say this fruit is not good?” asked his 
wife, lifting the smiling boy with a mother’s joy before his eyes. 

The heart of the warrior was touched. Bending his head, 
he kissed the babe, with such fondness as parents less stern 
are wont to exhibit. For a moment, he appeared to have 
satisfaction in gazing at the promise of the child. But, as 
he raised his head, his eye caught a glimpse of the sun, and 
the whole expression of his countenance changed. Motion- 
ing to his wife to replace the infant on the earth, he turned 
to her with solemnity, and continued — 

“ Let the tongue of Narra-mattah speak without fear. 
She hath been in the lodges of her father, and hath tasted 
of their plenty. Is her heart glad ?” 


THE yEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 453 

The young wife paused. The question brought with it a 
sudden recollection of all those reviving sensations, of that 
tender solicitude, and of those soothing sympathies of which 
she had so lately been the subject. But these feelings soon 
vanished ; for, without daring to lift her eyes to meet the 
attentive and anxious gaze of the chief, she said firmly, 
though with a voice that was subdued by diffidence — 

“♦Narra-mattah is a wife.” 

“ Then will she listen to the words of her husband. 
Conanchet is a chief no longer. He is a prisoner of the 
Mohicans. Tineas waits for him in the woods !” 

Notwithstanding the recent declaration of the young wife, 
she heard of this calamity with little of the calmness of an 
Indian woman. At first it seemed as if her senses refused 
to comprehend the meaning of the words. Wonder, doubt, 
horror, and fearful certainty, each in its turn prevailed ; for 
she was too well schooled in all the usages and opinions of 
the people with whom she dwelt, not to understand the 
jeopardy in which her husband was placed. 

“ The Sachem of the Narragansetts a prisoner of Mohican 
Tineas !” she repeated in a low tone, as if the sound of her 
voice^were necessary to dispel some horrible illusion. “No! 
Tineas is not a warrior to strike Conanchet 1” ^ 

“ ,Hear my words,” said the chief, touching the shoulder 
of his wife, as one arouses a friend from his slumbers. 
“ There is a Pale-face in these woods who is a burrowing 
fox. He hides his head from the Yengeese. When his 
people were on the trail, barking like hungry wolves, this 
man trusted to a Sagamore. It was a swift chase, and my 
father is getting very old. He went up a young hickory 
like a bear, and Conanchet led off the lying tribe. But he 
is not a moose. His legs cannot go like running water for 
ever 1” 

“ And why did the great Narragansett give his life for a 
stranger ?” 


454 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


“ The man is a brave,” returned the Sachem, proudly ; 
“ he took the scalp of a Sagamore !” 

Again Narra-mattah was silent. * She brooded in nearly 
stupid amazement on the frightful truth. 

“ The Great Spirit sees that the man and his wife are of 
different tribes,” she at length ventured to rejoin. “ He 
wishes them to become the same people. Let Conanchet 
quit the woods, and go into the clearings with the mother 
of his boy. Her white father will be glad, and Mohican 
Uncas will not dare to follow.” . 

“ Woman, I am a Sachem, and a warrior among my 
people !” 

There was a severe and cold displeasure in the voice of 
Conanchet that his companion had. never before heard. He 
spoke in the manner of a chief to his woman, rather than 
with that manly softness with which he had been accus- 
tomed to address the scion of the Pale-faces. The words 
came oyer her heart like a withering chill, and affliction 
kept her mute. The chief himself sate a moment longer in 
a stern calmness, and then rising in displeasure he pointed 
to the sun, and beckoned to his companions to proceed. In 
a time that appeared to the throbbing heart of her who fol- 
lowed his swift footsteps but a moment, they had turned a 
little eminence, and in another minute they stood in the 
presence of a party that evidently awaited their coming. 
This grave group consisted only of Uncas, two of his 
fiercest-looking and most athletic warriors, the divine, and 
Eben Dudley. 

Advancing rapidly to the spot where his enemy stood, 
Conanchet took his post at the foot of the fatal tree. Point- 
ing to the shadow, which had not yet turned towards the 
east, he folded his arms on his naked bosom, and assumed 
an air of haughty unconcern. These movements were made 
in the midst of a profound stillness. 

Disappointment, unwilling admiration, and distrust, all 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 455 

struggled through the mask of practised composure, in the 
dark countenance of Tineas. He regarded his long-hated 
and terrible foe with an eye that seemed willing to detect 
some lurking signs of weakness. It would not have been 
easy to say whether he most felt respect or regret at the 
faith of the Narragansett. Accompanied by his two grim 
warriors, the chief examined the position of the ' shadow 
with critical minuteness, and when there no longer existed a 
pretext for affecting to doubt the punctuality of their cap- 
tive, a deep ejaculation of assent issued from the chest of 
each. Like some wary judge, whose justice is fettered by 
legal precedents, as if satisfied there was no flaw in the pro- 
ceedings, the Mohegan then signed to the white men to 
draw near. 

“ Man of a wild and unreclaimed nature !” commenced 
Meek Wolfe, in his usual admonitory and ascetic tones, “ the 
hour of thy existence draws to its end I Judgment hath 
had rule ; thou hast been weighed in the balances and art 
found wanting. But Christian charity is never weary. We 
may not resist the ordinances of Providence, but we may 
temper the blow to the offender. That thou art here to die 
is a mandate decreed in equity, and rendered awful by mys- 
tery; but further, submission to the will of Heaven doth 
not exact. Heathen, thou hast a soul, and it is about to 
leave its earthly tenement for the unknown world- ” 

Until now, the captive had listened with the courtesy of 
a savage when unexcited. He had even gazed at the quiet 
enthusiasm and singularly contradictory passions that shone 
in the deep lines of the speaker’s face, with some such reve- 
rence as he miffht have manifested at an exhibition of one 
of the pretended revelations of a prophet of his tribe. But 
.when the divine came to touch upon his condition after 
death, his mind received a clear, and to him an unerring 
clue to the truth. Laying a finger suddenly on the shoul- 
der of Meek, he interrupted him by saying — 


456 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ My father forgets that the skin of his son is red. The 
path to the happy hunting-grounds of just Indians lies 
before him.” 

“ Heathen, in thy words hath the Master Spirit .of Delu- 
sion and Sin uttered his blasphemies !” 

“ Hist ! Did my father see that which stirred the 
bush?” 

“ It was the viewless wind, idolatrous and idle-minded 
infant in the form of adult man !” 

“ And yet my father speaks to it,” returned the Indian, 
with the grave but cutting sarcasm of his people. “ See,” 
he added, haughtily, and even with ferocity, “ the shadow 
hath passed the root of the tree. Let the cunning man of 
the Pale-faces stand aside ; a Sachem is ready to die !” 

Meek groaned audibly and in real sorrow ; for, notwith- 
standing the veil which exalted theories and doctrinal sub- 
tleties had drawn before his judgment, the charities of the 
man were grounded in truth. Bowing to what he believed 
to be a mysterious dispensation of the will of Heaven, he 
withdrew to a short distance, and kneeling on a rock, his 
voice was heard during the remainder of the ceremonies, 
lifting its tones in fervent prayer for the soul of the con- 
demned. 

The divine had no sooner quitted the place, than Tineas 
motioned to Dudley to approach. Though the nature of 
the borderer was essentially honest and kind, he was in 
opinion and prejudices but a creature of the times. If he 
had assented to the judgment which committed the .captive 
to the mercy of his implacable enemies, he had the merit of 
having suggested the expedient that was to protect the suf- 
ferer from those refinements in cruelty which the savages 
were known to be too ready to infiict. He had even volun- 
teered to be one of the agents to enforce his own expedient, 
though in so doing he had committed no little violence to 
his natural inclinations. The reader will therefore judge of 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 457 

his conduct in this particular, with the degree of lenity that 
a right consideration of the condition of the country and of 
the usages of the age may require. There was even a 
relenting and a yielding of purpose in the countenance of 
this witness of the scene, that was favorable to the safety of 
the captive, as he now spoke. His address was first to 
Uncas. 

“ A happy fortune, Mohegan, something aided by the 
power of the white men, hath put this Narragansett into 
thy hands,” he said. “ It is certain that the Commissioners 
of the Colony have consented that thou shouldst exercise 
thy will on his life ; but there is a voice in the breast of 
every human being, which should be stronger than the voice 
of revenge, and that is the voice of mercy. It is not yet too 
late to hearken to it. Take the promise of the Narragansett 
for his faith — take more : take a hostage in this child, which 
with its mother shall be guarded among the English, and 
let the prisoner go.” 

“My brother asketh with a big mind !” said Uncas, drily. 

“ I know not how nor why it is I ask with this earnest- 
ness,” resumed Dudley, “ but there are old recollections and 
former kindnesses, in the face and manner of this Indian ! 
And here, too, is one, in the woman that I know is tied to 
some of our settlements, with a bond nearer than that of 
common charity. Mohegan, I will add a goodly gift of 
powder and of muskets, if thou wilt listen, to mercy, and 
take the faith of the Narragansett.” 

Uncas pointed with ironical coldness to his captive, as he 
said — 

“ Let Conanchet speak !” 

“ Thou hearest, Narragansett. If the man I begin to sus- 
pect thee to be, thou knowest something of the usages of 
the whites. Speak ! Wilt swear to keep peace with the 
Mohegans, and to bury the hatchet in the path between 
your villages ?” 


20 


458 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

“ The fire that burnt the lodges of my people turned the 
heart of Conanchet to stone,” was the steady answer. 

“ Then can I do no more than see the treaty respected,” 
returned Dudley, in disappointment. “ Thou hast thy 
nature, and it will have way. The Lord have mercy on 
thee, Indian, and render thee such judgment as is meet for 
one of savage opportunities.” 

He made a gesture to Uncas that he had done, and fell 
back a few paces from the tree, his honest features expressing 
all his concern, while his eye did not refuse to do its duty 
by closely watching each movement of the adverse parties. 
At the ' same instant the grim attendants of the Mohegan 
chief, in obedience to a sign, took their stations on each 
side of the captive. They evidently waited for the last 
and fatal signal, to complete their unrelenting purpose. 
At this grave moment there was a pause, as if each of 
the principal actors pondered serious matter in his inmost 
mind. 

“ The Narragansett hath not spoken to his woman,” said 
Tineas, secretly hoping that his enemy might yet betray 
some unmanly weakness in a moment of so severe trial. 
“ She is near.” 

“ I said my heart was stone,” coldly returned the Narra- 
gansett. 

“ See ! the girl creepeth like a frightened fowl among the 
leaves. If my brother Conanchet will look, he will see his 
beloved.” 

The countenance of Conanchet grew dark, but it did not 
waver. 

“We will go among the bushes, if the Sachem is afraid 
to speak to his woman with the eyes of a Mohican on him. 
A warrior is not a curious girl, that he wishes to see the 
sorrow of a chief !” 

Conanchet ^elt hurriedly for some weapon that might 
strike his enemy to the earth, and then a low murmuring 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 459 

sound at his elbow stole so softly on* his ear, as suddenly to 
divert the tempest of passion. 

• “ Will not a Sachem look at his boy ?” demanded the 
suppliant. “ It is the son of a great warrior. Why is the 
face of his father so dark on him ?” 

Narrah-mattah had drawn near enough to her husband to 
be within reach of his, hand. With extended arms she 
held the pledge of their former happiness towards the chief, 
as if to beseech a last and kindly look of recognition and 
love. 

“ Will not the great Narragansett look at his boy ?” she 
repeated, in a voice that sounded like the lowest notes of 
some touching melody. “ Why is his face so dark on a 
woman of his tribe ?” 

Even the stern features of the Mohegan Sagamore showed 
that he was touched. Beckoning to his grim attendants to 
move behind the tree, he turned and walked aside with the 
noble air of a savage, when influenced by his better feelings. 
Then light shot into the clouded countenance of Conanchet. 
His eyes sought the face of his stricken and grieved con- 
sort, who mourned less for his danger than she grieved for 
his displeasure. He received the boy from her hands, and 
studied his features long and intently. Beckoning to Dud- 
ley, who alone gazed on the scene, he placed the infant in 
his arms. 

“ See !” he said, pointing to the child. “ It is a blossom 
of the clearings. It will not live in the shade.” 

He then fastened a look on his trembling partner. There 
was a husband’s love in the gaze. “Flower of the open 
land !” he said ; “ the Manitou of thy race will place thee in 
the flelds of thy fathers. The sun will shine upon thee, and 
the winds from beyond the salt lake will blow the clouds 
into the woods. A Just and Great Chief cannot shut his 
ear to the Good Spirit of his people. Mine calls his son to 
hunt among the braves that have gone on the long path. 


460 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

Thine points another way. Go, hear his voice and obey. 
Let thy mind be like a wide clearing. Let all its shadows 
be next the woods ; let it forget the dream it dreamt among 
the trees. ’Tis the will of the Manitou.” 

“ Conanchet asketh much of his wife. Her soul is only 
the soul of a woman !” 

“ A woman of the Pale-faces ; now let her seek her tribe. 
Narra-mattah, thy people speak strange traditions. They 
say that one just man died for all colors. I know not. 
Conanchet is a child among the cunning, and a man with 
the warriors. If this be true, he will look for his woman 
and boy in the happy hunting-grounds, and they will come 
to him. There is no hunter of the Yengeese that can kill 
so many deer. Let Narra-mattah forget her chief till that 
time, and then, when she calls him by name, let her speak 
strong ; for he will be very glad to hear her voice again. 
Go ! A Sagamore is about to start on a long journey. He 
takes leave of his wife with a heavy spirit. She will put a 
little flower of two colors before her eyes, and be happy 
in its growth. Now let her go. A Sagamore is about to 
die.” 

The attentive woman caught each slow and measured 
syllable, as one trained in superstitious legends would listen 
to the words of an oracle. But, accustomed to obedience 
and bewildered with her grief, she hesitated no longer. The 
head- of Narra-mattah sank on her bosom as she left him, 
and her face was buried in her robe. The step with which 
she passed Uncas was so light as to be inaudible; but when 
he saw her tottering form, turning swiftly, he stretched an 
arm high in the air. The terrible mutes just showed them- 
selves from behind the tree, and vanished. Conanchet 
started, and it seemed as if he were about to plunge forward ; 
but, recovering himself by a desperate eifort, his body sank 
back against the tree, and he fell in the attitude of a chief 
seated in council. There was a smile of fierce triumph on 


WEPT OF WISH-TON^WJSH. 461 

his face, and his lips evidently moved. Uncas did not 
breathe as he bent forward to listen : — 

“ Mohican, I die before my heart is soft !” uttered firmly, 
but with a struggle, reached his ears. Then came two long 
and heavy respirations. One was the returning breath of 
Uncas, and the other the dying sigh of the last Sachem of 
the broken and dispersed tribe of the Narragansetts. 


462 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

“ Each lonely scene shall thee restore ; 

For thee the tear be duly shed ; 

Beloved till life could charm no more, 

And mourned till pity’s self be dead.” 

Collins. 

An hour later and the principal actors in the foregoing 
scene had disappeared. There remained only the widowed 
Narra-mattah, with Dudley, the divine, and Whittal Ring. 

The body of Conanchet still continued, where he had 
died, seated like a chief in council. The daughter of Con- 
tent and Ruth had stolen to its side, and she had taken her 
seat, in that species of dull woe, which so frequently attends 
the first moments of any unexpected and overwhelming 
affliction. She neither spoke, sobbed, nor sorrowed in any 
w^ay that grief is wont to affect the human system. The 
mind seemed palsied, though a withering sense of the 
blow w’as fearfully engraven on every lineament of her, 
eloquent face. The color deserted her cheeks, the lips were 
bloodless, while at moments they quivered convulsively, like 
the tremulous movement of the sleeping infant; and at 
long intervals her bosom heaved, as if the spirit within 
struggled heavily to escape from its earthly prison. The 
child lay unheeded at her side, and Whittal Ring had 
placed himself on the opposite side of the corpse. 

The two agents appointed by the Colony to witness the 
death of Conanchet stood near, gazing mournfully on the 
piteous spectacle. The instant the spirit of the condemned 
man fied, the prayers of the divine had ceased, for he 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 463 


believed that then the soul had gone to judgment. But 
there was more of human charity and less of that exagge- 
rated severity in his aspect, than was ordinarily seated in the 
deep lines of his austere countenance. Now that the deed 
was done, and the excitement of his exalted theories had 
given way to the more positive appearance of the result, he 
might even have moments of harassing doubts concerning 
the lawfulness of an act that he had hitherto veiled under 
the forms of a legal and necessary execution of justice. 
The mind of Eben Dudley vacillated with none of the subtle- 
ties of doctrine or of law. As there had been less exagge- 
ration in his original views of the necessity of the proceeding, 
so was there more steadiness in his contemplation of its 
fulfilment. Feelings, they might be termed emotions, of a 
different nature troubled the breast of this resolute but 
justly disposed borderer. 

“ This hath been a melancholy visitation of necessity, and 
a severe manifestation of the fore-ordering will,” said the 
Ensign, as he gazed at the sad spectacle before him. “ Father 
and son have both died, as it were, in my presence, and both 
have departed for the world of spirits in a manner to prove 
the inscrutableness of Providence. But dost not see, here, 
in the face of her who looketh like a form of stone, traces 
of a countenance that is familiar ? ” 

“ Thou hast allusion to the consort of Captain Content 
Heathcote ? ” 

“ Truly, to her only. Thou art not, reverend sir, of suffi- 
cient residence at the Wish-Ton-Wish, to remember that 
lady in her youthfulness. But; to me, the hour when the 
Captain led his followers into the wilderness seemeth but as 
a morning of the past season. I was then active in limb, 
and something idle in reflection and discourse ; it was in 
that journey that the woman who is now the mother of my 
children and I first made acquaintance. I have seen many 
comely females in my time, but never did I look on one so 


464 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON - WISH. 

pleasant to the eye, as was the consort of the Captain unti/ 
the night of the burning. Thou hast often heard the loss 
she then met, and from that hour her beauty hath been that 
of the October leaf, rather than its loveliness in the season 
of fertility. Now look on the face of this mourner, and say 
if there he not here such an image as the water reflects 
from the overhanging hush. In verity, I could believe it 
was the sorrowing eye and the bereaved look of the mother 
herself!” 

“ Grief hath struck its blow heavily on this unoflfending 
victim,” uttered Meek, with great and subdued softness in 
his manner. “ The voice of petition must be raised in her 
behalf, or 

“ Hist ! — there are some in the forest ; I hear the rustling 
of leaves 1 ” 

“ The voice of him who made the earth whispereth in the 
winds ; his breath is the movement of nature I ” 

“ Here are living men ! — But, happily, the meeting is 
fi-iendly, and there will be no further occasion for strife. 
The heart of a father is sure as ready eye and swift foot.” 

Dudley sufiered his musket to fall at his side, and both he 
and his companion stood in attitudes of decent composure 
to await the arrival of those who approached. The party 
that drew near arrived on the side of the tree opposite tc 
that on which the death of Conanchet had occurred. The 
enormous trunk and swelling roots of the pine concealed the 
group at its feet, but the persons of Meek and the Ensign 
were soon observed. The instant they were discovered, he 
who led the new-comers b^nt his footsteps in that direction. 

“ If, as thou hast supposed, the Narragansett hath again 
led her thou hast so long mourned into the forest,” said 
Submission, who acted as guide to those who followed, “ here 
are we at no great distance from the place of his resort. 
It was near yon rock that he gave the meeting with the 
bloody-minded Philip, and the place where I received the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 465 

boon of an useless and much-afflicted life from his care is 
within the bosom of that thicket which borders the brook. 
This minister of the Lord, and our stout friend the Ensign, 
may have further matter to tell us of his movements.” 

The speaker had stopped within a short distance of the 
two he named, but still on the side of the tree opposite to 
that where the body lay. He had addressed his words to 
Content, who also halted to await the arrival of Ruth, who 
came in the rear supported by her son, and attended by 
Faith and the physician, all equipped like persons engaged 
in a search through the forest. A mother’s heart had sus- 
tained the feeble woman for many a weary mile, but her 
steps had begun ’to drag shortly before they so happily .fell 
upon the signs of human beings near the spot where they 
now met the two agents of the Colony. 

Notwithstanding the deep interest which belonged to the 
respective pursuits of the individuals who composed these 
two parties, the interview was opened with no lively signs of 
feeling on either side. To them a journey in the forest 
possessed no novelties, and after traversing its mazes for a 
day the newly-arrived encountered their friends as men 
meet on more beaten tracks in countries where roads 
unavoidably lead them to cross each other’s paths. Even 
the appearance of Submission in front of the travellers 
elicited no marks of surprise in the unmoved features of 
those who witnessed his approach. Indeed, the mutual 
composure of one who had so long concealed his person, 
and of those who had more than once seen him in striking 
and mysterious situations, might w'ell justify a belief that the 
secret of his presence near the valley had not been confined 
to the family of the Heathcotes. This fact is rendered still 
more probable by the recollection of the honesty of Dudley, 
and of the professional characters of the two others. 

“ We are on the trail of one fled, as the truant fawn seek- 
eth again the covers of the woods,” said Content. “ Our 
20 ^ 


466 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

hunt was uncertain, and it might have been vain, so many 
feet have lately crossed the forest, were it not that Provi- 
dence hath cast our route on that of our friend here^ who 
hath had reason to know the probable situation of the Indian 
camp. Hast seen aught of the Sachem of the Narragansetts, 
Dudley ? and where are those thou led’st against the subtle 
Philip? That thou fell upon his party we have heard; 
though further than thy general success we have yet to 
learn. The Wampanoag escaped thee ?” 

“The wicked agencies that back him in his designs 
profited the savage in his extremity. Else would his fate 
have been that which I fear a far worthier spirit hath been 
doomed to suffer,” * ♦ 

“Of whom dost speak? — but it mattereth not. We seek 
our child; she, whom thou hast known, and whom thou 
hast so lately seen, hath again left us. We seek her in the 
camp of him who hath been to her — Dudley, hast seen aught 
of the Narragansett Sachem ?” 

The Ensign looked at Ruth as he had once before been 
seen to gaze on the sorrowing features of the woman ; but . 
he spoke not. Meek folded his arms on his breast, and 
• seemed to pray inwardly. There was, however, one who 
broke the silence, though his tone?i were low and menacing. * 

“ It was a bloody deed !” muttered the innocent. “ The 
lying Mohican hath struck a Great Chief fi-om behind. 
Let him dig the prints of his moccasin from the earth, with 
his nails, like a burrowing fox ; for there’ll be one on his 
trail before he can hide his head. N^pset will be a warrior 
the next snow !” 

“There speaks my witless brother!’^ exclaimed Faith, 
rushing ahead — she recoiled, covered her face with her 
hands, and sank upon the ground, under the violence of the 
surprise that followed. 

Though time moved with his ordinary pace, it appeared 
to those who witnessed the scene which succeeded, as if the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 467 

emotions of many days were collected within the brief com- 
pass of a few minutes. We shall not dwell on the first har- 
rowing and exciting moments of the appalling discovery. 

A short half-hour served to make each persofi acquainted 
with all that it was necessary to know. We shall therefore 
transfer the narrative to the end of that period. 

The body of Conanchet still rested against the tree. Tlie 
eyes were open, and though glazed in death, there still 
remained about the brow, the compressed lips, and the 
expansive nostrils, much of that lofty firmness which had 
sustained him in the last trial of life. The arms were pas- 
sive at its sides, but 'one hand was clenched in the manner 
with which it had so often grasped the tomahawk, while the 
.other had lost its power in a vain effort to seek the place in 
the girdle where the keen knife should have been. These 
two movements had probably been involuntary, for, in all 
other respects, the form was expressive of dignity and repose. 
At its side, the imaginary Nipset still held his place, mena- 
cing discontent betraying itself through the ordinary dull 
fatuity of his countenance. 

The others present were collected around the mother and 
her stricken child. It would seem that all other feelings 
were, for the moment, absorbed in apprehensions for the 
latter. There was much reason to dread that the recent 
shock had suddenly deranged some of that fearful machinery 
which links the soul to the body. This effect, however, 
was more to be apprehended by a general apathy and 
failing of the system, than by any violent and intelligible 
symptom. 

The pulses still vibrated, but it was heavily, and like the 
irregular and faltering evolutions of the mill, which the 
dying breeze is ceasing to fan. The pallid countenance was 
fixed in its expression of anguish. Color there was none, 
even the lips resembling the unnatural character which is 
given by images of wax. Her limbs, like her features, were 


468 THE WEPT OF WISH - TON-WISH. 

immovable ; and yet there was, at moments, a working of 
the latter, which would seem to imply not only conscious- 
ness, but vivid and painful recollections of the realities of - 
her situation.’ 

“ This surpasseth my art,” said Doctor Ergot, raising 
himself from a long and silent examination of the pulse ; 
“ there is a mystery in the construction of the body, which 
human knowledge hath not yet unveiled. The currents of 
existence are sometimes frozen in an incomprehensible man- 
ner, and this I conceive to be a case that would confound 
the most learned of our art, even in the oldest countries of 
the earth. It hath been my fortune to see many arrive but 
few depart from this busy world, and yet do I presume to 
foretell that here is one destined to quit its limits ere the 
natural number of her days has been filled !” 

“ Let us address ourselves, in behalf of that which shall 
never die, to Him who hath ordered the event from the 
commencement of time,” said Meek, motioning to those 
around him to join in prayer. 

The divine then lifted up his voice, under the arches of 
the forest, in an ardent, pious, and eloquent petition. When 
this solemn duty was performed, attention was again bestow- 
ed on the sufferer. To the surprise of all, it was found that 
the blood had revisited her face, and that her radiant eyes 
were lighted with an expression of brightness and peace. 
She even motioned to be raised, in order that those near 
her person might be better seen. 

“ Dost know us ?” asked the trembling Ruth. “ Look on 
thy friends, long-mourned and much-suffering daughter? 
’Tis she who sorrowed over thy infant afflictions, who 
rejoiced in thy childish happiness, and who hath so bitterly 
wept thy loss, that craveth the boon. In this awful mo- 
ment, recall the lessons of youth. Surely, surely, the God 
that bestowed thee in mercy, though he hath led thee on a 
wonderful and inscrutable path, will not desert thee at the 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 469 

end ? Think of thy early instruction, child of my love ; 
feeble of spirit as thou art, the seed may yet quicken, 
though it hath been cast where the glory of the promise 
hath so long been hid.” 

“ Mother !” said a low struggling voice in reply. The 
word reached every ear, and it caused a general and breath- 
less attention. The sound was soft and low, perhaps infan- 
tile, but it was uttered without accent, and clearly. 

“Mother — why are we in the forest?” continued the 
speaker. “ Have any robbed us of our home, that we 
dwell beneath the trees ?” 

Jluth raised a hand imploringly, for none to interrupt 
the illusion. 

“ Nature hath revived the recollections of her youth,” she 
whispered. “ Let the spirit depart, if such be his holy will, 
in the blessedness of infant innocence !” 

“ Why do Mark and Martha stay ?” continued the other. 
“ It is not safe, thou knowest, mother, to wander far in 
the woods ; the heathen may be out of their towns, and one 
cannot say what evil chance might happen to the indis- 
creet.” 

A groan struggled from the chest of Content, and the 
muscular hand of Dudley compressed itself on the shoulder 
of his wife, until the breathlessly attentive woman withdrew^, 
unconsciously, with pain. 

“ I’ve said as much to Mark, for he doth not alw'ays 
remember thy warnings, mother ; and those children do so 
love to wander together ! — but Mark is, in common, good ; 
do not chide if he stray too far — mother, thou wilt not 
chide!” 

The youth turned his head, for even at that moment 
the pride of young manhood prompted him to conceal his 
weakness. 

“Hast prayed to-day, my daughter?” said Ruth, struggling 
to be composed. “ Thou shouldst not forget thy duty to 


470 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

His blessed name, even though we are houseless in the 
woods.” 

“ I will pray now, mother,” said the creature of this mys- 
terious hallucination, struggling to bow her face into the lap 
of Ruth. Her wish was indulged, and for a minute, the 
same low childish voice was heard distinctly repeating the 
words of a prayer adapted to the earliest period of life. 
Feeble as were the sounds, none of their intonations escaped 
the listeners, until near the close, when a species of holy 
calm seemed to absorb the utterance. Ruth raised the 
form of her child, and saw that the features bore the placid 
look of a sleeping infant. Life played upon them, as the 
flickering light lingers on the dying torch. Her dove-like 
eyes looked up into the face of Ruth, and the anguish of 
the mother was alleviated by a smile of intelligence and 
love. The full and sweet organs next rolled from face to 
face, recognition and pleasure accompanying each change. 
On Whittal they became perplexed and doubtful, but when 
they met the fixed, frowning, and still commanding eye of 
the dead chief, their wandering ceased for ever. There was 
a minute, during which fear, doubt, wildness, and early 
recollections, struggled for the mastery. The hands of 
Narra-mattah trembled, and she clung convulsively to the 
robe of Ruth. 

“ Mother ! mother !” whispered the agitated victim of so 
many conflicting emotions, “ I will pray again — an evil 
Spirit besets me.” 

Ruth felt the force of her grasp, and heard the breathing 
of a few words of petition ; after which the voice was mute, 
and the hands relaxed their hold. When the face of the 
nearly insensible parent was withdrawn, to the others the 
dead appeared to gaze at each other with a mysterious and 
unearthly intelligence. The look of the Narragansett was 
still, as in his hour of pride, haughty, unyielding, and filled 
with defiance ; while that of the creature who had so long 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISII. 47l 

lived in his kindness was perplexed, timid, but not without 
a character of hope. A solemn calm succeeded, and when 
Meek raised his voice again in the forest, it was to ask the 
Omnipotent Ruler of Heaven and Earth to sanctify his dis- 
pensation to those who survived. 

The changes which have been wrought on this continent 
within a century and a half, are very wonderful. Cities 
have appeared where the wilderness then covered the ground, 
and there is good reason to believe that a flourishing town 
now stands on or near the spot where Conanchet met his 
death. But, notwithstanding so much activity has prevailed 
in the country, the valley of this legend remains but little 
altered. The hamlet has increased to a village ; the farms 
possess more of the air of cultivation ; the dwellings are 
enlarged, and are somewhat more commodious ; the churches 
are increased to three ; the garrisoned houses, and all other 
signs of apprehension from violence, have long since disap- 
peared ; but still the place is secluded, little known, and 
strongly impressed with the marks of its original sylvan 
character. 

A descendant of Mark and Martha is, at this hour, the 
proprietor of the estate on which so many of the moving 
incidents of our simple tale were enacted. Even the building, 
which was the second habitation of his ancestors, is in part 
standing, though additions and improvements have greatly 
changed its form. The orchards, which in 1675 were young 
and thrifty, are now old and decaying. The trees have 
yielded their character for excellence, to those varieties of 
the fruit which the soil and the climate have since made 
known to the inhabitants. Still they stand, for it is known 
that fearful scenes occurred beneath their shades, and there 
is a deep moral interest attached to their existence. 

The ruins of the block-house, though much dilapidated 
and crumbling, are also visible. At their foot is the last 
abode of all the Heathcotes who have lived and died in that 


472 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 

vicinity, for near two centuries. The graves of those of 
later times are known by tablets of marble ; but nearer to 
the ruin are many, whose monuments, half-concealed in the 
grass, are cut in the common coarse free-stone of the coun- 
try. 

One, who took an interest in the recollection of days long 
gone, had occasion a few years since to visit the spot. It 
was easy to trace the births and deaths of generations, by 
the visible records on the more pretending monuments of 
those interred within a hundred years. Beyond that period, 
research became difficult and painful. But his zeal was not 
to be easily defeated. 

To every little mound, one only excepted, there was a 
stone, and on each stone, illegible as it might be, there was 
an inscription. The undistinguished grave, it was presumed, 
by its size and its position, was that which contained the 
bones of those who fell in the night of the burning. There 
was another, which bore, in deep letters, the name of the 
Puritan. His death occurred in 1680. At its side there 
was an humble stone, on which, with great difficulty, was 
traced the single word ‘ Submission.’ It was impossible to 
ascertain whether the date was 1680, or 1690. The same 
mystery remained about the death of this man, as had 
clouded so much of his life. His real name, parentage, or 
character, further than they have been revealed in these 
pages, was never traced. There still remains, however, in 
the family of the Heathcotes, an orderly-book of a troop of 
horse, which tradition says had some connexion with his 
fortunes. Affixed to this defaced and imperfect document, 
is a fragment of some diary or journal, which has reference 
to the condemnation of Charles I. to the scaffold. 

The body of Content lay near his infant children, and it 
would seem that he still lived in the first quarter of the last 
century. There was an aged man, lately in existence, who 
remembers to have seen him, a white-headed patriarch, 


THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH. 4Y3 

reverend by his years, and respected for his meekness and 
justice. He had passed nearly or quite half-a-century 
unmarried. This melancholy fact was sufficiently shown by 
the date on the stone of the nearest mound. The inscrip- 
tion denoted it to be the grave of “ Ruth, daughter of George 
Harding of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay, and wife of 
Capt. Content Heathcote.” She died in the autumn of 
1675, with, as the stone reveals, “a spirit broken for the 
purposes of earth, by much family affliction, though with 
hopes justified by the covenant, and her faith in the Lord.” 

The divine, who lately officiated, if he do not now offlciate, 
in the principal church of the village, is called the reverend 
Meek Lamb. Though claiming a descent from him who 
ministered in the temple at the period of our tale, time and 
intermarriages have produced this change in the name, and 
happily some others in doctrinal interpretations of duty. 
When this worthy servant of the church found the object 
which had led one born in another state, and claiming 
descent from a line of religionists who had left the common 
country of their ancestors to worship in still another man- 
ner, to take an interest in the fortunes of those who first 
inhabited the valley, he found a pleasure in aiding the in- 
quiries. The abodes of the Dudleys and Rings were nume- 
rous in the village and its environs. He showed a stone, sur- 
rounded by many others that bore these names, on which 
was rudely carved, “ I am Nipset, a Narragansett ; the next 
snow, I shall be a warrior !” There is a rumor, that though 
the hapless brother of Faith gradually returned to the ways 
of civilized life, he had frequent glimpses of those seducing 
pleasures which he had once enjoyed in the freedom of the 
woods. 

Whilst wandering through these melancholy remains of 
former scenes, a question was put to the divine concerning 
the place where Conanchet was interred. He readily offered 
to show it. The grave was on the hill, and distinguished 


474 THE WEPT OF WISH-TON-WISH, 

only by a headstone that the grass had concealed from for- 
mer search. It merely bore the words — “ the Narragan- 
sett.” 

“ And this at fts side ?” asked the inquirer. “ Here is 
one also, before unnoted.” 

The divine bent in the grass, and scraped the moss from 
the humble monument. He then pointed to a line, carved 
with more than usual care. The inscription simply said— 

‘‘ The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish.” 





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